


States of Being

by hbxplain, hghrules (hbxplain)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, And Lowkey They Chase a Serial Killer Anyway, Attempted Murder, Author Has Chronic Illness, Canon-Typical Deceit Being a Bitch, Chronic Illness, Dee Has Lupus, Duchenne muscular Dystrophy, Incredibly Unsympathetic Remus Sanders, Lupus, M/M, Multi, Murder, Mystery, Remy Is Virgil's Brother, Serial Killers, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Swearing, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Terminal Illnesses, Unhealthy Demus, Unhealthy Dukeceit, Virgil Has DMD, Virgil Uses a Wheelchair Sometimes, dee's not part of the lamp but he gets included in the movie nights all the same, everyone is stressed, first time tattoos, it's not even SLIGHTLY endgame so don't fret, no ableism no racism no homophobia, on account of aint nobody got time for that in my fantasy funtime world, soulmate tattoo au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-25 03:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20369998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hbxplain/pseuds/hbxplain, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hbxplain/pseuds/hghrules
Summary: Virgil feels kinda bad for whoever was cursed with being his soulmate.Not only will he likely die before they ever get to meet, but also, he's totally hogging the experiences. He's got first time tattoos across every inch of his skin, because if he's going to die fast, then he's going to live fast, too, damn it.Meanwhile, Roman, Patton, and Logan have spent the majority of their lives thinking they don't have a soulmate. But Logan gets a cute little graduation cap tattoo, and Roman gets one for a first kiss, and Patton is left lonely as he tries to convince himself he can be loved.When Virgil decides to hunt a serial killer, he sees it as just another day. When Patton says hello and begs to come with, things begin to change a little. Because surely, Patton thinks, surely his soulmate hasn't apprehended a serial killer before... right?Patton and Virgil's determined hunt begins, and Logan and Roman are pulled along in their concern, slowly relearning each other as they go. And if Virgil's old 'rival' gets caught in the chaotic metaphorical crossfire, well, Logan swears the blame falls on Pat.(Or: Virgil lives his life in three states of being, until he suddenly lives it in more.)





	1. State of Loneliness (Patton)

**Author's Note:**

> this was a real trip, seeing as i literally wrote 15k of these words in the last few days before my actual posting date. i've since had time to edit!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton is lonely.

Patton kept up hope for a long, long time, but no one can hope forever.

It's one of Patton's closest friends, actually, who seals the deal. Patton is lonely, as he seems to be more and more the longer he lives, but Roman, at least, is in the same boat. Logan may have left their loveless little squad in favor of a sweet little graduation tattoo, and Roman and Patton—or Patton, at least—don't fault him for it (though it hurts all the same), but at least they have each other. Roman and Patton find themselves growing closer for every inch of Logan's growing distance.

Thus, it is Roman who barges into Patton's apartment exactly when he needs the company most.

"Pat?" asks Roman softly. It sounds odd, but not misplaced, exactly; Roman's voice is nearly as flamboyant as he is, but he knows when to dial it down. It just doesn't happen all that often. "How are things?"

"Bad," Patton says bluntly, because he knows better than to lie to his best friend. They already had that crisis. "I'm lonely. Roman, what if I'm always lonely? What if I never get a soulmate?"

Roman knows this voice, this voice that says "tell me it will all be okay," hiding its subtext behind every desperately spoken word. He responds as he always does, subtext be damned. "I don't know the future, Pat. I don't know if you'll get a soulmate, but I do know you've already got a best friend for life." Roman grins, but his amber eyes cannot sparkle.

"What if I die without ever having kissed someone," Patton groans, offering up a weak light for the darkened mood.

"Well, that's an easy fix," Roman says, shrugging casually, and it's as easy as that and then his lips are on Patton's.

Patton's mood disappears. He feels like he's floating.

"Roman?" he asks unsurely when Roman freezes in place.

"Oh," says Roman.

Patton lights up, and he can feel his cheeks flushing with excitement. "Ha, yeah! Oh! Do you think-"

Before he can finish, he has Roman's wrist in his face.

It's a tattoo, vaguely primitive and even more vaguely tinted red, small and printed in the shape of a puckered set of lips.

For a moment, Patton is ecstatic; Roman got a tattoo for his first kiss and Patton didn't, which means-

Nothing. Which means nothing, because Patton and Roman have both done so many things before that didn't get so much as a flicker of ink, and that means that Roman's accomplishment tattoos were achieved first by his soulmate, who would therefore be gifted with that coveted ink.

So it isn't Patton. He hates that he isn't even surprised.

"I have a soulmate, Pat," says Roman. Then, after a moment: "Oh my god! I only kissed you because I thought I had no soulmate, but now I do and now I haven't saved my first kiss for my soulmate like I've been trying to-" His smile returns, bigger than ever. "I have a soulmate, Pat! A whole soulmate!"

Patton forces a laugh. "A whole soulmate!" But he was so sure. So certain that he had finally set foot in a land that was right, fated, meant to be.

If he doesn't get tattoos, and he can't trust his instincts—even if his soulmate exists, how will he identify them?

He supposes he won't.

He smiles wider for Roman, and wipes his tears by himself when Roman leaves.


	2. State of Pain (Virgil)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil is going to throw himself into an active volcano.

Virgil lives his life in two states of being: pain, and adrenaline.

"Virge, get down, please-" shout his parents when he is five years old and standing on the roof with outstretched arms.

He looks to the ground, at the suddenly so-small forms of his parents, and this suffocating panic overwhelms every part of him. But then he remembers that, hey, he's gonna die anyway, and he really, _ really _ wants another tattoo that's not hospital-related. So he jumps.

He doesn't get a tattoo for flying, but he does get one for his first broken bone.

%%%

Virgil lives his life in three states of being: pain, adrenaline, and sweet, sweet relief.

"Virgil, we have pain medicine!" his little brother yells, exasperated. Virgil does not drop the scissors.

He's ten years old when he shaves his head over the kitchen sink. He gets a tattoo for his first home haircut gone wrong, and Virgil is able to identify now that half the reason he loves getting tattoos is because of the short-lived euphoria and—most importantly—pain relief that comes along with them.

The other half is that he doesn't have all that long left to collect them.

%%%

Virgil's little brother, only two years behind him in age, is fifteen when he watches Virgil walk out of his physical therapy appointment.

"Hey, Remy," Virgil says. He sounds tired, but he unlocks the car door for Remy and sits in the driver's seat anyway.

"Does it help?" Remy asks, hopeful with all the new discoveries in treatment.

"No," Virgil says. He starts the car.

%%%

Virgil turns eighteen in one minute, and so he crosses his fingers.

"It's gonna look dumb with one arm covered in ink and the other not," Remy yawns, and Virgil shushes him, staring intently at the only remaining blank space on his arm, right above the inside of his elbow. God, he hopes his soulmate isn't older than him.

The clock strikes 1:32 in the morning, and, like clockwork, the crude image of a birthday cake begins to paint itself across the only blank skin on his right arm.

After that, he gets a tattoo on his left arm for getting his fiftieth tattoo. Remy laughs at him, but he's happy.

%%%

Virgil is twenty-four and running late for physical therapy. Now that he’s got a vaguely ‘normal’ walking gait down, he doesn't think the therapy helps much, but he's terrified that if he stops he'll realize it was staving off some even bigger pain all along, so he still goes.

But he doesn't mind being a little late, so he slides into the nearest coffee shop.

Remy is at the counter, showing off his resting bitch face to the customer asking if they sell burgers. No, they don't. They're a coffee shop. Graciously, Virgil interrupts, which is to say he elbows the customer out of the way and bares holes into Remy's eyes with his own.

Remy huffs. "The usual, okay, Jesus, sit down," he says, but he looks a little grateful and Virgil feels some spark of success as he leans against the counter. Today is not a day for sitting. Plus, if he sits, Remy’s going to start worrying like a mother hen and asking why the hell he didn’t bring his wheelchair along. Virgil does not have the energy for that today.

The coffee shop is emptier than it usually is. There's some kind of soulmate parade going on uptown, a parade that Virgil can't possibly attend because, oh, god, what if he met his soulmate? They'd hate him, he's totally hogging the tattoos. Someday they'll get a "dead soulmate" tattoo and that might be the only one they _ ever _ get, and, christ, they'll hate him.

He brushes that train of thought aside.

Excluding the pissy customer grumbling on his way to the door, there are only three customers in the shop, sans Virgil himself. There are two young ladies chatting excitedly at a round table, and a quiet man seated on the corner couch, his knees pulled up to his chest and his drink abandoned on the table.

"Oh, shit, Virge, check it out."

Virgil follows Remy's gaze to the television playing the local news channel on mute. The subtitles tell of a murder, and Remy dives across the counter to grab the remote and turn up the volume.

“The fifth murder this month, police suspect it to be the work of the Duke. The few living witnesses gathered were unable to give a solid description of who they can at least agree seemed to be a mustached man…”

“Oh, god,” the quiet, curled up man in the corner breathes. Virgil didn’t realize he was paying attention to the world, but, well, here they are. Virgil moves his gaze back to the screen just in time to catch the very frame that he assumes set the guy off to begin with—photos of the crime scene, true-crime style. Surely that isn’t legal. Can they do that? Virgil shakes his head. Unimportant.

“Hey, Virge,” Remy says suddenly, with a suspiciously familiar tone of voice, and Virgil turns with excitement bubbling just inside his chest. He _knows _that tone. “So. Not to enable your addiction to being a dumbass, but…”

He trails off, like the asshole little brother he is. Virgil, trying to stay on his good side, resists the urge to smack him. _ “ Yes?” _

Remy rolls his eyes, sighing in exasperation. “Think there’s a tattoo for, oh, I don’t know, _ catching a serial killer?” _

“Bet,” Virgil spits out on instinct, but he doesn’t regret a thing.

The quiet man in the corner spits out his drink and then profusely apologizes to Remy while he awkwardly tries to dab the liquid off the couch.

Virgil does not want to say hi. On the other hand, Virgil kind of wants to say hi, come to think of it.

“Oh, damn. Wish I wasn’t so busy, or I’d help that poor man!” Remy says sarcastically, tossing a paper at Virgil. Virgil _ barely _catches the thing as it flutters towards the ground.

Virgil is fine with life or death situations. Usually he’s the one putting himself there, which makes things a whole lot easier.

Virgil is _ less _ fine with “just say hi” situations. He’s _ rarely _the one in control.

But Remy is glaring at him, and Virgil has this sinking feeling that if he doesn’t approach this guy, Remy _ will, _and that would probably be ten times worse. Virgil sighs, brushes his hair down into his eyes, and walks towards the mess of a dude.

(It was a sigh, not an attempt not to hyperventilate. No, really! It was a sigh, goddammit!)

“Hey, uh…” Virgil wants to throw himself into an active volcano. He cannot do this, because he lives in Florida. “Hey. I’m, um, I’m Virgil? Here, I-” He didn’t bring any napkins. _ He didn’t even bring any napkins oh my god. _He makes a weird half-choking noise that is unusual even for him, and, after several very awkward seconds of silence and the stranger trying to clean the couch with his own shirt, Virgil tries to use the paper Remy gave him.

It works surprisingly well, and Virgil blames that on Remy’s thick stationary, but _ of course _ the stranger’s gonna question it.

“Oh, you-” The guy’s eyes widen. “There’s something written on that! Are you sure you don’t need it?”

Oh, damn. The guy sounds like sunshine. Is that a thing? Is that a thing people can sound like? Virgil sounds like thunder. This is not going to be a good interaction. “Eh, don’t worry, it’s actually just-” He tilts the paper toward himself in an attempt to read-

“My phone number,” he finishes, trying hard not to let his jaw hang down.

Remy, _ you little shit. _

The stranger’s neck flushes and the red spreads unevenly across his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. Virgil can feel his cells multiplying. His crops are flourishing, his skin is clear, his illness is- well, no, that might be a bit much. But his gay is really just through the roof right now.

“For- um…” The guy blushes even _ more, _ which, _ what the hell, _where is all that blood even coming from? “For me?”

“I never got your name!” Virgil shouts suddenly, unsure what else to do. He then discovers he should have done literally anything else.

“Oh, it’s Patton! I mean, well, _ I’m _ Patton. And you’re Virgil.” The guy— _ Patton — _smiles, and it’s so wildly genuine that Virgil swears to god his heart stops. “What an impression, am I right?”

Patton giggles at himself as he carefully sets his messy drink back down on the counter after cleaning off its base. “Sorry, it’s really just been a big ol’ day, if you know what I mean.” He pauses, nibbling his bottom lip, and Virgil _ dies. _ He’s _dead _now. Death is an old friend at this point. “So, this is weird, but… You were joking, right? About the serial killer thing?”

Virgil’s eyes go wide. He pretends to understand the concept of ‘playing it cool.’ “Uh, no, actually?” Mission failed, we’ll flee all social contact next time. “I mean. It’s just- I collect tattoos, I guess?” Against his better judgment, Virgil rolls up his right sleeve, and Patton lets out this incredibly pure gasp that has Virgil’s heart beating doubletime.

“So many,” Patton hums, eyes sparkling in awe as he hovers over Virgil’s arm. Virgil is not sure what to do with this scenario. He thinks running away might be his best bet, actually.

“Heh. Yeah.” Conversation, conversation, how- how does conversation even _ work!? _“What was your first tattoo?”

Patton’s face falls. Virgil makes a note to google maps the closest volcano later. “I… don’t know yet! I don’t have any.”

For a solid ten seconds, Virgil doesn’t say anything. His brain is too busy working overtime, spitting out idea after convoluted idea about how badly Virgil could’ve fucked up the life of a guy he’d never even met before now. But, like. Surely not. Surely not, right? Virgil’s never kissed anybody, a guy like Patton has _ surely _passed that milestone. Plus… Oh, god. That’s really all he’s got. Uh oh.

"So have you had your first kiss?" Virgil's mouth blurts against his brain’s better judgment and holy shit does he hate himself right now.

Patton tilts his head and gives this funny, questioning smile, but he doesn't actually question it and Virgil loves him. "Yes, actually! Um… today. Earlier today."

Okay, crisis averted. Virgil can now interact with this man without being overcome by crushing guilt.

"Well, there's that," Virgil says plainly, because he didn't exactly plan farther than this. Virgil looks for something other than himself to blame and ultimately decides that he's going to give this place a shitty review on yelp and then blame it on Remy. He knows the manager here wouldn't fire his best worker, anyway. Also the manager is well aware of what a massive shit Virgil is. It's to be expected at this point. Fuck, he's been silent for too long. "Uh. Wanna hunt a murderer with me?"

Holy shit he's bad at this.

"I just mean- Like, surely there's a tattoo for that, right? And you've definitely got a soulmate so maybe they're just an asshole like me! You just have to do something they haven't done."

Patton is quiet for too long, and then he softly asks "Do you mean it? You… think I have a soulmate?"

What the hell kind of life does this pure sunshine of a man lead that he can look at himself and think, 'Unlovable? Yep, that tracks.'

Virgil's about to get a tattoo for assisting the greater good. "Of course?" he says, and he doesn't mean for it to come out as a question, but it does. "Why wouldn't you? You seem cool, and I hate most people on sight, so. You being an exception is a pretty important development."

Patton lurches forward and _ hugs _him and, alright, okay, physical contact might be pushing it. But he lets go anyway just seconds before Virgil had planned to start telling him off, so he's off the hook this time around. "How do we start?" Patton asks, already breathless with excitement.

Huh. Good question. Well, most of the Duke guy's crimes were published in the local newspaper, so maybe their best bet would be… "The library?"

"Ooh, perfect!" Patton says, and god only knows what _ that _means.

Virgil takes a deep breath, flips Remy off—just for good measure—and pretends he's got his life together as he follows Patton out the door.


	3. State of Discovery (Logan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan has a theory.

Logan is upset.

He thinks this because Patton says he ought to, and he feels- yes, he _ feels _ very bad for how much he's been ignoring Patton as of late.

This acknowledgment of emotions, Logan knows (and that's a word he's much more comfortable with), is not so much a repayment to Patton as Logan would like to believe it is. After all, Patton doesn't have so much of a clue that Logan is actually doing it, and it's not as if Logan can ring Patton between studies and say "Hello, Patton, I felt something today."

(Well, come to think of it… he probably could. Patton subscribes quite avidly to the idea of positive reinforcement, and Logan is now imagining the excitedly satisfied ramble Patton would give him…)

Logan shakes his head. He is upset, and he should do something about it. Something helpful, instead of something like calling Patton at five in the afternoon.

He turns back to his easel-mounted poster board and is promptly interrupted.

"No, no, _ Logan _ _._ Logan, I have a soulmate! Do you hear me? _ Are you understanding me, Four Eyes!?" _

"Yes," Logan hisses, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment (another feeling) as another librarian shushes his so-called friend.

"Then help _ me _ understand, oh all-knowing scientist!" Roman huffs. Logan is far too tired to feel as offended as he probably should. He's already reached his "feeling" limit for the day, anyhow. "It's been twenty-three years, Logan! What the hell has my soulmate been _ doing !?" _

Logan lets out a long-suffering sigh. "I don't know, Roman. At least you know your soulmate has a lot of tattoos." He makes an unsteady mark on his graph.

"Uh, yeah, which _ clearly _ isn't enough to work off of! You've been doing this weird survey thing for _ years _ _, _man."

Logan is trying very hard not to feel another feeling.

"It's a big city," Logan snaps. "And there's no guarantee my soulmate is even _ in _ this city."

The librarian shushes them again. They’re starting to look very, very tired.

Logan exhales as loudly as he can, just out of spite. Then he steps away from his poster board and gestures rather emotionally toward it.

Roman, looking relieved to have been given a distraction, takes Logan's place with a pensive stare. He traces from point to point with his finger, and, for one incredibly small moment, Logan feels a stab of guilt for not making this graph as tactile as his others. He hasn't exactly been… thinking about Roman, lately. And certainly not about Patton. With them gone, with the chance of them seeing his graphs made so much smaller, Logan has regressed back to a time where he cared less about his friends' learning styles… where he cared less about his _ friends. _

Damn it. Yet another thing he shouldn't be feeling.

Regardless, Roman seems to be managing well enough. His hand has dropped back down to his side, and he narrows his eyes.

"Oh my god, Logan," Roman says, and Logan feels his heart rate picking up. Whether it's due to the possibility of a breakthrough or the way Roman says his name, Logan can't be sure. "Logan- What about polyamory!?"

"...What?" 

"Polyamory," Roman groans, rolling his eyes. "You know. More than one soulmate? Lo, what if you have _ more than one soulmate?" _

Logan tugs hard on his hair as he sinks to the floor. "God_ damn _it!" 

The librarian doesn't shush him, which is odd enough to bring him out of his dramatics a bit. "... Did the librarian leave?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Roman shrugs, and Logan gets the very distinct feeling that something is about to happen. 

He's right.

"Lo!" Patton yells as the tired librarian leads him and some stranger around a bookcase. Patton flaps his arms excitedly and breaks into a sprint, and Logan has the good sense to move out of the way so that Roman takes the brunt of the attack.

“You,” the librarian says to the stranger. “You look serious. Please tell me you’re here to take all three of these nuisances _ elsewhere.” _

Patton deflates slightly, offering the librarian a sheepish smile as his arms slowly fall back to his sides.

“Well, excuse you,” the stranger says, and Logan likes him already. Aforementioned stranger then yells, “GOD, I JUST _ LOVE _READING.”

The librarian walks away, and Logan does genuinely feel a little bad about the whole ordeal. The poor thing is just doing their job. That said, Logan understands the stranger’s willingness to yell; it’s hard _ not _to jump in when Patton is upset.

“Nice to meet you,” Logan says, holding out a hand to the stranger, who quickly recoils. Logan accidentally scoffs out loud, and Patton shoots him a frown while the stranger curls back even further.

“I immediately regret that,” the stranger says, his eyes flickering back and forth between the group and the librarian.

“Are you kidding me? That was _ epic!” _Roman shouts, and the librarian doesn’t even look their way. The stranger flinches.

“All he did was yell,” Logan huffs. “Anyone can yell. _I _can yell.”

“You won’t though.”

“Yes, because I’m not childish enough to do that purposefully in a library, _ Roman .” _

“The hell? I didn’t even do it! It was _ Piss - _topher Robin over here who marched right up into our gang and then screamed about it.”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Patton manages to say fairly quietly. “Roman, don’t call Virgil Piss-topher Robin.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry-” Roman begins, but Logan cuts him off.

“Vergil? Like the poet?”

“Why do the nerds always ask me that first?” Virgil mutters, and Logan frowns. “No, spelled with an ‘i.’ And I’m not a poet. Sorry.”

“Well, there’s no need to apologize,” Logan assures him. “You’ve just met me; you owe me nothing.”

“Uh… right.”

“So that’s Logan!” Patton says excitedly. “And then there’s Roman-”

“I’m the one who called you epic! Remember that? We can just forget the Pisstopher Robin bit,” Roman insists.

Virgil swallows uncomfortably. “...Yeah.”

“Anyway!” Patton butts in again. “Virgil is my _new _friend,” he says, with just a hint of suspicious emphasis, “who’s going to help me catch a serial killer!”

Logan splutters. “Who’s going to _ what now?” _

“I… I know I said to be your own hero, Pat, but Jesus,” Roman says, eyes wide. Virgil actually _ rolls _his eyes, which is maybe the most confident thing Logan has ever seen him do—apart, of course, from the yelling.

“Patton thinks you can help,” Virgil explains, shrugging. “And by ‘you,’ I assume he meant Logan. ‘Cause you’ve got…” He shrugs again and gestures awkwardly at the posterboard. “A graph, and stuff.”

“Actually,” Patton says, “the killer we’re going after is the Duke! Which means-”

_“The Duke!” _ Roman screeches, and dives into his bag. Moments later, he resurfaces with several crumpled manilla folders, each labelled rather illegibly. “I’ve been studying this guy ever since he popped up!” He slams his folders down on the table, spreading them out sloppily across every available surface, and Virgil jumps a little but then comes closer in curiosity. “He’s always going on about creativity, but his bullshit is, in my princely opinion, the _ opposite _of creativity!”

Virgil’s eyes go wide as he scans through some of the folders, and Logan can’t help but feel a little jealous. He _ could _have prepared a graph for the Duke, if Patton had forewarned him. “Christ,” Virgil breathes, his eyes skimming one of the papers. “How did you get all this information?”

“It’s a bit of a hobby?” Roman shrugs. “I don’t know. I mostly needed somewhere to direct all my spite. I never actually thought I’d go chasing after the guy.”

“Oh, there’s… You don’t have to come along,” Virgil says quickly. Logan notices that Patton is just about vibrating with how much his limbs are jittering.

“Slow down there, Hans Yolo,” Roman says, and then quickly praises himself for the nickname under his breath. “You can’t just drag our best friend into a potentially life-threatening situation and then tell us not to come along.”

“I have to agree,” Logan concurs, and he thinks he catches Patton’s nervous features softening. “I may not have been the most… _ attentive _friend as of late, but I still consider Patton to be the height of my experience with friendship as a whole.”

“Aw, Logan,” Patton coos, and Logan now knows he has made a mistake. “Do you really feel that way?”

“More or less,” Logan says quickly, and then hurries on. “Regardless. You two _ are _planning to do the sort of job that policemen are heavily trained and equipped for. And you two are neither trained nor equipped. It follows, then, that we wouldn’t quite be comfortable with letting you go at all, let alone… well, alone.”

Virgil purses his lips, which Logan thinks he has really no right to do in this situation. “Look, dude. I get it; you’re worried. But Pat and I are both heading out because we’re desperate for a tattoo. For different reasons, I mean.” He seems to hesitate, second-guessing himself, but then slides his sleeve up to reveal another sleeve—this one of tattoos—and continues anyway. “My point is, I’ve been engaging in this kind of dumbassery for a while now, and I’m not going to let Patton get hurt.” Patton coos and tilts his head. Virgil continues. “You two have no reason to get involved with this, and it’s gonna be a lot harder to keep track of three people than it will be to keep track of one.”

Roman makes an offended sort of sound that quickly evolves into a word. “Well! I’ll have you _ know, _ I have a _ variety _ of reasons to ‘get involved with this,’ the first being that _ I’m worried about my friend! _ Granted, I, personally, don’t see how a killer-catching tattoo would help much with the process of elimination in _ my _soulmate quest, but-”

“Hmm,” Logan says, loudly enough to cut Roman off. The offended noises resume, but Logan continues before they can evolve into another sentence fragment. “You have an entire sleeve of tattoos.”

“I mean. I have more than that, but… yeah?” Virgil confirms uncertainly.

“Fascinating.”

Virgil fidgets uncomfortably.

“My apologies. I only mean that this fits quite intriguingly into a project I’ve been working on,” Logan further explains in a way which he hopes explains nothing. Roman shoots him a curious look, which he promptly ignores.

Still, Logan is not one to jump to conclusions. He files the information away and resolves, regardless, not to let Roman hear head nor tail of it.

And yet, as certain Logan is that he needs much more information to form any sort of theory… it’s difficult, he thinks, not to marvel at the possibility that has been before him his entire life, a four-piece puzzle only three-fourths finished. It is _ amazing _to him that he could have gone so many years never even considering that perhaps the reason he and his friends had so few tattoos was not only that their soulmate(s) had so many, but also because of the potential for the experiences to be spread out over a group much bigger than two.

Logan pockets the idea before he can get lost in it, as he knows he is far too wont to do. He holds out a hand to Virgil.

“We will take down the Duke together,” he says confidently, waiting for Virgil’s input. “Understood?”

Virgil looks like he hates this. He grasps Logan’s hand anyway.

“Aye aye, asshole.”


	4. State of Introspection (Roman)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman thinks too much. Also, his friends break into the scene of a crime.

_Hell yes _ is what Roman thinks for the entirety of the drive home. Not only is he going on an epic adventure with the two friends from whom he thought he had been drifting apart, but _ also _ the most recent addition to their team is A) _extremely _ easy on the eyes and B) _ in possession of a car. _

_ Hell yes _is what Roman thinks as he nabs shotgun, leaving Patton to take the middle backseat for literally no reason other than to sit closer to Logan. 

_ Hell yes _ is what Roman thinks as the new addition—sorry, sorry, _ Virgil — _turns the volume on his Fall Out Boy CD up high enough to shake Roman’s bones.

_ Aw, come on _is what Roman thinks when Virgil then insists they all put on their seatbelts.

“What if I want to leave my seatbelt _ off?” _Roman whines, slumping against the leather seat.

“Then you’ll die,” Virgil says simply, and Roman is shocked into putting on his seatbelt.

Logan proceeds into a lecture about seatbelt use that Roman knows is really just an excuse not to think about how glad he is that Patton sat so close, and so Roman zones out a bit and chooses to focus on something else.

Namely, the extremely-easy-on-the-eyes addition to the squad.

Virgil is snow-white pale, with dark hair and even darker eyeshadow—_under _his eyes, no less—to contrast. Plus, there’s a very nice tint of purple along the tips of his bangs. He’s got freckles, how the hell, across his nose, and the tattoos peeking up his neck are almost-but-not-quite covered by his black and purple patchwork hoodie. God, Roman would love to take that hoodie off.

For clothing design reasons, Jesus Christ!

Virgil puts the car into park before Roman can start focusing on something altogether _ different, _which Roman considers a gift from Fate Herself. Then he realizes that Virgil has put the car into park on the side of the street downtown.

“I thought we were going to my place,” Roman says.

“No,” Virgil says, and does not bother to say anything else. Roman squints at him as he exits the car and slams the door rather weakly, leaving Roman, Patton, and Logan in the lingering silence of the car.

“And we’re sure _he’s _ not the serial killer we should be catching?” Roman asks. Patton lets out a little flurry of breath and whacks him lightly on the arm before climbing unnecessarily over Logan to get out of the car. Logan seems a little too distracted by _ that _to be of any help, so Roman figures he might have to be The Smart One this time around. This privilege is not often his, so he plans to take advantage of it.

Virgil has parked them right beside a concerning amount of police tape, enough that Roman feels he can’t be blamed for stopping to take the manilla folders out of his bag again. Sure enough, the one labelled with the Duke’s most recent murder is missing, and Roman is fairly sure where he might be able to find it. He sighs, puts the folders away, and adjusts his shirt to look as princely as possible as he strides after Virgil.

“You realize we’re about to sneak into the scene of a murder?” Roman mentions when he catches up to Logan and Patton, who are a good ten feet behind Virgil.

“You don’t know that,” Patton says, sniffing quietly.

Logan is silent, examining the side of the old bookshop they’re walking around. Roman will admit that he’s a little sad to have it tainted by crime, if only because Logan used to appreciate the old antique books the place houses. Roman can distinctly remember tagging alongside Logan after school almost every day of the twelfth grade, simply because he and Patton had nothing better to do once Patton’s origami club disbanded due to lack of members and Roman had finished with the main performances of the year. Plus, Roman concedes to himself, Logan had already begun drifting at that point. He hadn’t even gotten his first tattoo yet, but he had already determined that he had to have a soulmate, and if Roman and Patton_ didn’t _ _,_ well… that wasn’t his problem, Roman guesses.

(Truthfully, Roman can’t be sure whether or not Logan still attends this particular bookshop, on account of how little Roman and Logan talk these days. It’s easy to slip into a familiar banter with him, but even Roman was surprised when his first stop after the _ordeal _with Patton was the library, a place Roman would have never thought to go had he not expected his old friend to be there, diligently studying things he had no real requirement to study.)

(Logan accepted his presence surprisingly easily. Roman had expected to be brushed off at least once or twice, but Logan just muttered a ‘hi’ and began ranting to him about his latest soulmate surveys, as though this _ wasn’t _the first time they’d seen each other in a couple of months. Roman didn’t even mind waiting for Logan to stop so he could talk about The Ordeal, so happy was he to hear Logan’s familiar post-survey lecture.)

(Admittedly, it hurt a little to find that Logan no longer outfitted his graphs and such to be better suited to Roman’s learning style. It’s a stupid thing to be hurt by, Roman thinks. He’s better than this. It’s silly to miss Logan so much when Logan clearly hadn’t even noticed he was gone.)

Roman snaps out of his thought process only due to the sound of crashing as Virgil straight up trips into the pile of deconstructed boxes out back of the bookshop, right beside the shallow ramp to the employee-only back door.

“Virgil!” Patton shouts, rushing forward to help him up, and Roman takes a deep breath to ground himself. Regardless of what he feels for his friends, and regardless of what _ they _ feel for _ him, _ they are together for the time being, and that should be enough. That will be enough, Roman is _ sure. _

(And besides, Roman has a soulmate! He knows this now. He has something to look forward to now. He really can’t be crushing on his friends when he has a _soulmate _ to be waiting for and _god _ he still can’t believe he kissed Patton why did he _ do _ that and why did it have to feel so _ nice _ and why did _ that _ have to be the thing that got him his first tattoo? Why did the universe have to wait until _ then, _when things were just starting to fall into place?)

Virgil falls again before Patton can finish helping him up. Roman takes a _ deeper _breath.

“Good god,” Logan huffs as Virgil holds out his arms to keep his balance, this time succeeding. Patton looks suitably concerned as he clings to to Virgil’s side, and Roman is NOT jealous. Not at _all. _“Are you quite alright, Virgil?”

“Fine,” Virgil says gruffly, brushing himself (and Patton) off. “I’m just not exactly the posterboy for ‘staying upright.’”

“That is a very specific thing not to be a posterboy for,” Roman notes. Virgil shoots him a very dirty glare, which Roman cannot help but think is very very attractive. Oh, goddammit. Here he goes again.

“Shut up and help me get this door open,” Virgil says. Extremely suspicious, if you ask Roman.

“We’re not helping you break into a bookshop,” Logan says firmly.

“Cool, bye,” says Virgil, and Patton splutters while Logan crosses his arms.

“Virgil,” Logan says, teacherly enough to make Virgil actually look at him. “We are not breaking into a bookshop. We cannot stop crimes by committing crimes.”

“Be gay, do crimes,” Roman complains. Logan gives him a very sharp look which says ‘please do not encourage him.’

After a short staring contest, Virgil finally gives. “Chill,” he says. “I come here a lot, I know the owners. They leave the back door unlocked for me.”

“Then why is the door locked?” Patton asks, fidgeting from foot to foot in his uncertainty. Roman waves to get his attention and then tosses him the fidget cube he always keeps in his pocket. Patton beams, Virgil’s questionable morals forgotten.

“Because someone got murdered here, probably,” Virgil huffs as he rolls his eyes. He wiggles the door handle a few more times before giving up and pulling his car keys from his pocket, and Roman notices only now that the keychain contains more than just his car keys.

Within moments, the door is unlocked. Roman still considers this incredibly sketchy.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you here,” Logan mutters as Virgil leads them all in. “And I come here rather often, as well.”

“I don’t like people,” Virgil says by way of explanation. At Logan’s inquisitive glance, Virgil continues, “I read in the back. Mrs. Stanley lets me read all the new books before she puts them out, s’long as I make sure they don’t look read.”

Logan looks extremely jealous. Roman wants to high-five Virgil.

Following Virgil’s lead gets them into a cozy little room which Roman, with his shoddy remembrance of the building’s architecture, assumes must be the employee room behind the register. There’s a dark green couch against one wall and a matching armchair against the other, with an intricately designed floor lamp casting a lovely blueish light from the corner of the room. Roman can understand why Virgil would want to spend time here; he imagines it would do wonders for his own creativity, should he ever be allowed in.

Just as Virgil is about to crack open the employee-only door to see into the main room, the door swings open suddenly, revealing a vaguely shocked-looking middle-aged woman with tired green eyes and a bun of frazzled auburn hair.

“Oh, Virgil,” she says, relaxing slightly, and then tenses again when she sees the rest of them. “Who..?”

“Partners in anti-crime,” Virgil explains rather cryptically, which the woman—Mrs. Stanley, Roman assumes—seems to see as plenty explanation as she nudges gently past him to sink into the sofa. “You okay, Mrs. S?”

“Fine, dear,” she says, leaning her head back. “Amiyah’s up front, showing out the rest of the authorities.”

“Oh,” says Virgil.

After a good ten seconds, Mrs. S sits up a little straighter, gaining a second wind of sorts. “Sorry. You look well, Virgil!”

“Uh, thanks. I, uh- only fell twice trying to get in the back,” he says jokingly.

The woman tuts quietly before finally turning to the rest of the group. “So who _are _these people? Specifically.”

“I’m Patton!” Patton pipes up when Virgil seems to need a moment to collect his thoughts. “And this is my best friend Logan, and my other best friend Roman!”

“It’s good to meet you,” Mrs. Stanley says kindly, looking at each of them. “And why are you here when our building is clearly surrounded by police tape? Because I doubt it’s to read.”

“It’s not,” Roman admits. “We’re solving a crime.”

Mrs. Stanley raises her eyebrows, her eyes drifting back to Virgil. “Are you, now? Seems like a tiny step up from your usual hijinks.”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well. My usual hijinks are getting old. And, anyway, I’m trying to help this guy get a tattoo,” he says, gesturing to Patton.

“I’m sure there are better ways,” Mrs. Stanley says, but she stands and cracks the door open anyway. After a few moments, she turns back to them and puts a finger over her mouth. “Now, you’ll have to be quiet, just in case, but I think they’re all gone. Amiyah should be out there, but I don’t think she’ll care to ask what you’re up to.”

“Thanks, Mrs. S,” Virgil says quietly, and then slips through the door.

Patton is still clinging to him, and Logan seems to have reached his limit with asking questions that he doubts will be answered with the answers he expects, so Roman is the last to grudgingly follow.

Sure enough, there’s only one person in the shop when they all cautiously peek around the bookcase. It’s another middle-aged woman, this one with her thick hair pulled into a tidy puff behind her head. A subtle flush is rising across her dark skin, and Roman immediately pities her. As much as he loves performance, he would _ hate _ to have to do such a large amount of socializing that focused so heavily on something as… well, _ heavy _as murder. And in her own bookshop, no less! Roman would hate to be in her position.

“Hey, Mrs. Stanley,” Virgil greets her, still staying out of sight of the windows.

“Oh, Virgil,” the second Mrs. Stanley says, just as tiredly as the first. “You can’t imagine the day I’ve had.”

“Probably not,” Virgil agrees.

“A clean-up crew is supposed to arrive in less than fifteen minutes, so be quick,” she says simply, and then heads straight into the back room, pausing only to say “Oh, hi, Logan,” before she disappears.

Logan at least looks pleased to have been acknowledged.

“That was easy,” Roman says, still a little suspicious.

“But I suppose it’s best not to take the few lucky instances we are given for granted,” Logan says, crouching beside the grey tarp pulled over the body-shaped object on the floor. He pauses, giving Patton time to copy him. “I don’t have any gloves. We really shouldn’t be touching evidence, even _ if _it’s already been studied by the police.”

Virgil curses. “How did I not think of that? Dammit, okay, I’ll just run next door to the cafe. They probably have latex gloves or something in the back, for food prep.” And before they can stop him, Virgil is heading back out the back door.

“Okay, so this is definitely super weird and super suspicious, right?” Roman blurts into the silent room.

Patton winces. “Admittedly, our new friend is a little… ‘sketchy,’ or whatever it’s called.”

“Yeah!” Roman agrees rather excitedly, pointing at Patton. “Dead-on!”

“Good pun, bad taste,” Patton comments. Logan wrinkles his nose.

“My bad, that was unintentional,” Roman assures him. “But seriously. We’re just going to… go along with all this?”

Patton hesitates. Logan picks one of the bookmarks out of a nearby book and gingerly pokes the tarp with it. “I mean…” Patton winces again. “Roman, I don’t wanna be alone forever.”

Logan pauses in his poking, but doesn’t look up. Roman’s eyebrow furrows.

“Patton, you’re not alone,” Roman says softly, kneeling to sit beside him.

“Not _yet,” _ Patton says suddenly, shocking Roman with the speed of his words. “But it’s coming, I know it is. This is the first time Logan has talked to me in, like, half a year-” Logan flinches here, trying very hard to hide it. “-and you, Roman, you’ve got a soulmate now, too, and that means you’re about to do the same thing! You’re both gonna find that ‘special someone’ you’ve always dreamed about and I’m just gonna be… here. Always just _ here.” _

Patton stops just as suddenly as he started, clamping his mouth shut and staring at the bookshop floor as he blinks away the tears in his eyes.

“Oh, Patton,” Roman breathes, leaning closer to him. “Patton, no, no, I- I’m so sorry we made you feel that way.”

“I… didn’t realize,” Logan says slowly, swallowing uncomfortably, “how much my absence was affecting you. I’m… sorry, Patton. I never meant to hurt you.”

Patton sniffles, and Roman doesn’t know what to do.

The employee door slams open, halting the three in their emotional tracks, but rather than Virgil’s almost-familiar pale face storming toward them, they instead see a slightly shorter man with light brown skin and a barely-raised butterfly rash across his nose and cheeks. His hair, a rich brown, is held back by a black beanie, and his heterochromatic brown and hazel eyes waste no time in locking onto the tarp.

“Fuck off of my crime scene,” the guy says, speed-walking across the room and pushing Logan out of the way. Already wearing gloves, the man yanks off the tarp to reveal a sight Roman had rather not seen in person. Thusly, Roman covers his and Patton’s eyes both, but the two of them can still hear the shutter on this person’s camera as he takes photo after photo of the body.

_ “Your _crime scene?” Logan asks incredulously, standing and crossing his arms. “I believe we were here first, and, unless you have any sort of I.D. which would make you at all important to this investigation, I don’t think you have the power to make us leave.”

Roman loves him.

The guy, however, simply shoots him a disgusted glare. “Wow, a know-it-all nerd who thinks he can cover up his problems with big words and condescending looks,” he sneers, and Logan swallows hard and takes a tiny step back. “Never seen one of _ those _before.”

“Well, okay,” Roman says impatiently, stepping up. “That was uncalled for, don’t you think?”

“Ooh, a patterned yellow and red shirt over skin-tight khakis, followed by red and orange eyeliner. How… _ brave _of you.”

“Come, now,” Patton says when Roman shamefully averts his eyes. It was laundry day, dammit. “There’s no need to be rude. We’re just waiting for a friend to get back with some gloves, and then we can work on this whole mystery _ separately. _We don’t have to get in each other’s ways.”

The guy narrows his eyes, but before he can come up with something snarky to ruin Patton’s already fragile self-esteem with, Virgil comes stumbling back through the door.

“What the _hell _are you doing here?” Virgil nearly growls, and Patton has the good sense to take a few steps back from the situation. Roman gladly follows suit, pulling a still shell-shocked Logan along with him.

“Oh, loving the raccoon cosplay, Virge! Is it-”

“Save it, asshat,” Virgil snaps, and the guy closes his mouth on what seems like instinct. _ “We’re _on this. What’s your deal?”

“I was on ‘this’ first, I assure you,” the guy says smoothly, adjusting his beanie. “Ever since the Duke’s first murder, in fact. So if you-”

“Uh uh, pal.” Virgil yanks up both of his hoodie sleeves, revealing his massive amount of tattoos. “Tat count on three. One… Two…”

“Seventy-three,” they both yell at once.

They narrow their eyes at each other.

“Alright,” the guy says slowly. “Fine. We’ll work together.”

“Yes,” Virgil says, just as slowly. “I guess we will.”

It’s deathly silent.

“Right,” Roman drawls. “Well, if Lilo and _ Bitch _over here are done with their weird bickering, then I think we should get back to examining this body.”

Virgil sighs. “Yeah, yeah, sorry.” He hands Logan a box of latex gloves. “This is my nemesis, Dee.”

“Nemesis?” Logan asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll get more tattoos than him if it kills me,” Virgil says, as though that explains literally anything.

It takes a good couple more minutes for the two to _actually _finish bickering, at which point a couple of police cars pull up beside the shop and the group is forced to book it out of there.

“Bye, Stanleys!” both Virgil and Dee shout as they dash out the back door, and it’s only like seven p.m. and Roman is already genuinely exhausted.

They pause outside the shop, Virgil and Dee both already seeming to be out of breath.

“Did you take pictures?” Virgil asks after a moment.

Dee narrows his eyes. “Depends. Did you have anything worth bargaining with?”

Virgil sighs in exasperation, snapping his fingers at Roman, and Roman is too tired to be offended as he fishes the folders out of his bag and waves them in front of Dee.

Another quiet moment passes.

“Fine,” Dee says. “Take me to my place.”

Roman is feeling less and less like the epic adventurer he’d expected this journey to make him, but he calls shotgun again nevertheless.


	5. State of Exhaustion (Patton)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton is tired for a lot of different reasons.

Patton doesn’t want to sit beside Dee because he’s afraid Dee will try to make good on that silent snark promise he’s due. So he’s very glad when Logan agrees to sit in the middle.

Logan, without looking at him, places a hand on his own. Patton doesn’t want to think about how much he’s missed this.

Last time they were in Virgil’s car, less than twenty minutes ago, there was very loud Fall Out Boy to fill the silence. Now there is  _only _ silence, and Patton is not loving it.

“So,” says Roman after a while. Patton appreciates it, which only makes him sadder that Roman doesn’t like Patton the way Patton likes  _ him.  _ “Virgil, Dee. How do you two know each other?”

“Hospital,” they say in unison. Patton frowns.

“...Oh,” he says. “Are you… okay?”

“Not really,” Virgil says at the same time that Dee says, “Peachy.”

“...Oh.”

They reach Dee’s house in silence after that.

Dee’s house is two-story and looks very extravagant. Once Virgil parks in Dee’s empty garage, Dee leads the four of them inside and up to the second floor, where they are quickly deposited in a master bedroom.

“Put your things here,” he says simply, “and change into something comfortable. The closet’s all yours. Meet me in the dining room when you’re done, and, Roman?” He locks eyes with Roman, who noticeably leans away from him. Dee rolls his eyes. “Bring your evidence folders.”

“Uhhhh,” says Roman once Dee leaves.

Logan raises an eyebrow. Patton has always liked Logan’s ‘unamused’ face, even when it’s directed at him (though he likes it even better when it’s not, to be honest). “Does he expect us to spend the night here?”

“Yeah,” Virgil sighs, lying back unceremoniously on the bed. He winces slightly when he actually hits the bed, and Patton fights the urge to go fret over him. “Dee likes to  _ do.  _ Time spent waiting for us to get to and from our homes is time that could be spent solving a murder, in his opinion.”

Roman sighs. “Does that mean he’ll want us to work through the night?”

Virgil sits up long enough to study Roman’s face and then falls back down. “Yeah, but I’ll talk him down if you guys are too tired. I could definitely take him in a fight.”

“Why would you end up  _ fighting!?”  _ Patton asks, moving closer to Virgil in his alarm.

“You never know with him,” Virgil says cryptically. He seems to struggle when he tries to sit up, and Patton silently reaches out to help him.

After a tense moment where Virgil just  _looks _ at him, Patton is blessed with a small, grateful Virgil smile.

Patton  _ glows. _

“Well, there’s no need for that,” Logan says. “I’ll stay up and organize Roman’s work with you two.”

Virgil shrugs. “Works for me.” He stands, again with difficulty, and Patton tries his best to help him without drawing the others’ attention. Virgil doesn’t seem like he’d enjoy being the center of attention for something like this, and Patton doesn’t plan to question him when he so clearly doesn’t want to talk about it.

Roman opens his mouth like he wants to argue, but then he just sighs again as he turns to open the closet. “Fine. He said we could wear… anything?”

Upon opening the closet, Roman is met with a walk-in full to the  _ brim  _ with a variety of clothes. Patton feels a smile climbing onto his face at Roman’s awed expression.

“Yeah, anything,” Virgil confirms, breaking away from Patton to head to the door. “His parents are usually out-of-town, but they’re designers, so they end up with a lot of extra clothing.”

Roman makes an “ooh” sound, which makes Patton’s smile even bigger, and even Logan seems to soften at Roman’s happiness.

God, Patton loves these boys.

Patton metaphorically shuts his mouth before that train of thought can continue.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll stay up here with Roman,” he says, since he doesn’t trust himself to contribute anything meaningful to a mystery-solving session. Roman looks at him out of the corner of his eyes before diving into the walk-in closet, and Patton feels that smile creeping up on him again.

“Of course,” Logan says gently, and Patton feels tears threatening to spill for  _ no good reason.  _ Why is he  _ like  _ this?

“Sleep tight,” Virgil says as he heads out of the bedroom, but it’s less sarcastic than Patton would have expected.

“Indeed,” Logan says while following suit, and then it’s just Patton and Roman. Alone.

Aw, heck. Patton should’ve thought this through.

“I found a onesie!” Roman yells from inside the closet. “I think it could fit you!”

Well. Maybe they’ll be alright.

%%%

With Patton outfitted in a grey cat onesie and Roman in a set of red silk pajamas, Roman finally switches off the lamp on the bedside table.

They’re no stranger to sharing a bed; they and Logan used to be very close, after all. Still, Patton feels… out of place, like this. Like all of his memories of the three of them feeling so  _ close  _ were all a part of something  _else. _ Something  _ past. _

Something he shouldn’t be privy to anymore.

But Roman throws an arm over his waist all the same, and Patton supposes he will pretend that is enough as he curls close enough to feel the other boy’s body heat.

In fact, it is so much enough that Patton has just about quieted his thoughts enough to be able to sleep when Roman speaks up, breaking him out of that fuzzy half-world.

“Pat, I… I wanted to say sorry.”

“Hmm?” Patton sleepily asks.

He can almost catch Roman biting his lip in the darkness. “I know I made things weird, this morning.”

Patton perks up a little. “Mhmm?”

“By kissing you.”

Patton deflates. “Mmm.”

“I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry,” Roman says weakly, his confidence fading halfway through the sentence. “I… I really appreciate you as a friend, Pat, and I didn’t mean to sacrifice that.”

“S’okay,” Patton mumbles as cheerfully as he can manage. It’s not much, given how tired he is both physically  _and _ emotionally. It’s been a long day. He made a new friend, sure, but he also feels like he’s lost an old one. He’s not sure if that counts as breaking even or not. Then again, he  _ did  _ get to talk to Logan again…

Patton doesn’t  _ know.  _ It’s all too confusing, and he’s never been the smart one anyway.

“Okay, yeah, but it’s not, though,” Roman insists, scooting closer to Patton on the bed. “You’re really important to me, Patton. You’ve been my best friend since, like, the beginning of time, basically! And I should never had tried to change that.”

That strikes something. “Change it?” Patton hesitantly asks.

Roman hesitates, too. “Well, not- Not  _ change  _ it, just… improve it?”

_ “Improve  _ it?” Patton asks weakly.

At least Roman seems to recognize his mistake. Unfortunately, he does  _ not  _ seem to know how to correct it. Patton doesn’t have the energy to help him out. “I just- Well- I mean, I didn’t mean…”

“G’night, Ro,” Patton mumbles, and he goes to sleep pretending Roman’s heat doesn’t burn his skin.


	6. State of Regret (Virgil)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil regrets some things and doesn't regret others.

Virgil lives his life in four states of being: pain, adrenaline, relief, and  _ regret. _

“I don’t think I realized exactly how  _ little  _ I wanted this visualized,” Virgil grumbles as Dee lays out the printed photos across his dining room table. Virgil will never be able to eat at this table again. Not that he wanted to.

“If you don’t have something helpful to say, then don’t say anything at all,” Dee says absentmindedly, taking the pile of printed suspect sketches from Logan’s hands.

Logan opens up each of the manila folders, layering them across the table beneath the sketches and very obviously trying not to take a side in this arbitrary argument. Virgil’s nose twitches.

“What are we starting with?” he asks tiredly. Admittedly, he probably should have gone to bed with Patton and Roman, but at least he gets to sit now. Even if he likely won’t be able to get up afterward.

“Calling cards,” Dee says, placing himself only inches away from the first crime scene photo as his eyes flick across it. “Is there any common factor in how he kills people?”

“So far, he’s only killed five, in four separate incidents,” Logan says. He adjusts his glasses and squints at one of the folders. “And he doesn’t have a consistent calling card. The first two people were killed separately, but both of them had upwards of thirty tattoos. The third incident was the one with two victims, with the man having twenty-five tattoos and the woman having ten. They were married. And the fourth-”

“I’m counting thirty-five immediately visible tattoos,” Dee says, stepping back from the photos. Virgil is silently relieved, though he can’t quite parse why. “But the tattoo thing is obvious. What  _ about  _ the tattoos? Is it the amount? The type? Why the woman with ten? Why  _ anyway,  _ for  _ any  _ of them?”

“I expect the woman was collateral damage,” Logan says. He shrugs his shoulders. “The Duke kills her husband, she walks in on them, suddenly she’s a witness who has to be taken care of.”

“Jesus, man,” Virgil mutters. Logan shrugs again.

“Just a theory, but a very likely one.”

“Alright, fine, so we’re counting the woman in that scenario as an outlier,” Dee says, marking out her name on that incident’s paper. “Let’s start working under the assumption that the Duke’s going after people with a lot of tattoos. Why?”

“There are too many reasons to consider,” Logan says. “We need more than that to understand the Duke’s motive.”

Dee grits his teeth, already impatient. Virgil bites down the urge to stick out his tongue at him. “That’s fine,” Virgil says, trying to force them all to move on. “Let’s work on everything else first. What can we find a common factor in?”

“Setting,” Dee huffs, letting out a long breath. “How about setting?”

“Incident One, forty-seven year-old male with thirty-six tattoos, and Incident Three, thirty-two year-old male with twenty-five tattoos and thirty year-old female with ten tattoos. Both of these happened in the victims’ homes. Incident Two, twenty-eight year-old female with thirty-three tattoos, took place in a park, and the last incident, thirty-five year-old male with- how many tattoos?” Logan asks.

“Thirty-five visible,” Dee answers. “And that was in the bookshop. So there isn’t much of a theme with the setting.”

“I get the house murders, and even the park, I guess,” Virgil butts in. “But how the  _hell _ did someone get murdered in the bookshop without the Stanleys seeing it?”

“Mrs. S was unboxing a new shipment in the back. Mrs. Stanley was  _ in  _ the main part of the bookshop, but she was a few aisles away from where the body was found, and the shelves are pretty tall and tightly-packed,” Dee says. Virgil hates how much more he knows about this. “I figure the victim must have been chloroformed or something before he was killed, because Mrs. Stanley would have heard him screaming otherwise.”

“And there was no one else in the bookshop?” Logan asks. “No other customers?”

“Not a one,” Dee swears. “Police said it happened just a few minutes after the store opened for the day, and Mrs. S had only heard the bell ring once, so the victim and the Duke must have walked in at the same time.”

“Do you know anything like this about the rest of the incidents?”

Dee shakes his head, looking bitter. “Nope. This was the only setting I was lucky enough to have attachments to, with the Stanleys and all.”

“‘Lucky’ is not the word I would use, but sure,” Virgil says under his breath. Dee glares at him. Virgil ignores this.

“The victim was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and shorts,” Logan says, paying Virgil no attention, which Virgil does not appreciate. “So he had most of his tattoos on display. Because of this, we have no way of knowing if the Duke chose him on sight, or if it was premeditated.”

“The in-house ones were definitely premeditated, though,” Virgil pipes up again, using his finger to trace the lines on the paper he’s studying. “They had been home for hours when their neighbors heard the screaming.”

“Unless the Duke saw them through the windows,” Dee points out.

“What, you think this guy’s just walking around, stopping to peer through random people’s windows? Oh, yeah,  _ that’s  _ not suspicious. With strategies like that, it’s no wonder we don’t have a good police sketch for the guy!”

“Okay, emo, what do  _ you  _ think happened?” Dee snaps.

“I think it was fuckin’ premeditated!”

“Calm down,” Logan says loudly, firmly enough for both Virgil and Dee to stop talking. Dee pouts, and Virgil rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “There’s no need to get upset. “We’re not going to decipher everything on the first night.”

“No shit, sugar. I should know,” Dee hisses. Virgil growls. Hissing is  _ his  _ thing, dammit.

Logan shoots the both of them a glare. “Breathe. We-” He sighs. “Actually, you know what? I think we should sleep on it. As much as I would like to continue, the two of you are clearly not being conducive to a proper study of the material at our disposal, and staying up past a recommended bedtime will not help our problem-solving skills anyhow. We will pick this up in the morning, after a healthy breakfast.”

Logan stands up with the sort of face that tells Virgil he isn’t fucking around, so, grudgingly, Virgil stands up, too. He gives Dee a sarcastic two-fingered salute, gathering up the manila folders so the little shit won’t try to stay up solving this thing on his own, and then he and Logan head upstairs while Dee slams his head dramatically against the table.

“As dramatic an ending as that was,” Logan says quietly as he pushes open the master bedroom door, “I believe we made some good progress. And, as much as you seemed to dislike it… We do seem to make a good team, Virgil.”

Virgil doesn’t know how to respond to that, except to just kind of continue sitting idly by while his brain self-destructs. He watches silently as Logan crawls into bed, curling up against Patton.

After a moment, Logan sighs and waves Virgil over.

Hesitantly, Virgil crawls into bed, too.


	7. State of Adrenaline (Logan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan participates in an obligatory chase scene.

Logan watches the news on his phone as he prepares the healthiest breakfast he can manage: scrambled eggs and toast.

Dee is the first, after Logan, to enter the kitchen, hopping up onto the counter to sleepily inquire if the breakfast is for everybody. Of course it is. Logan elects to keep silent about the whole murder thing, though, at least until Dee has finished eating.

Patton is next. He walks into the kitchen with his eyes closed as he yawns and stretches his arms and runs into the doorframe. Logan sighs and helps him into the dining room instead. By the time he returns to the kitchen to grab a plate for Patton, Roman has arrived, as well, so Logan grabs two plates and directs Roman toward the table.

“Any ideas?” Dee vaguely questions when he’s about halfway through his eggs.

“Yes, but I will only tell you if you continue with your breakfast,” Logan says. Dee sighs and shoves his toast in his mouth, and Logan shrugs. Good enough. “Alright. I have one main theory, which relates quite heavily to the situation my friends and I are in—and which also relates to you, Dee.”

Dee gestures for Logan to get on with it. Logan does.

“The Duke has been targeting people with an abnormally high number of tattoos. As shown with Incident Three as well as, I believe, the two of us,” he gestures to Roman and himself, “and perhaps even Patton, when a person has a particularly high tattoo count, it becomes likely that their soulmate might have a particularly low one.”

“Okay…?”

“To clarify: People with a lot of tattoos have soulmates with only a few.”

“Yeah, okay, I get it. And?”

_ “And  _ it can be…  _harmful _ to one’s psyche if one grows up without  _ any  _ tattoos, believing that they have no soulmate when, in fact, their soulmate has simply been far more active than they have.”

Dee’s face lights up and then promptly falls. “I… see. You’re saying you think the Duke is one of those people without many tattoos.”

“I think the Duke has shown himself to be very mentally unstable,” Logan confirms, “and I think that a man with his mindset might be tempted to find his soulmate by killing people who ‘fit the bill,’ as it were, and then waiting for a ‘dead soulmate’ tattoo to appear on his own skin.”

Dee likely believes he is being subtle when he glances worriedly down at his own tattoo-covered skin, but Logan catches the motion all the same. He chooses not to say anything about it.

Patton chooses differently. “Are you sure you shouldn’t just… leave the mystery-solving to someone else?” he asks uncertainly, eyeing the tattoos creeping up Dee’s neck.

“No,” Dee snaps, which is enough to make Patton shut his mouth. Logan takes a deep breath to avoid snapping right back at Dee.

Thankfully, at that very moment, Virgil stumbles through the doorframe and lands unceremoniously on the empty chair between Patton and Dee. Dee rolls his eyes impatiently, but Logan catches him shooting out a hand to steady Virgil when he begins to lean off the seat. Patton makes a concerned noise and simply wraps his arms around Virgil, who seems too tired to mind.

“‘Morning,” Virgil says, as though he hasn’t just narrowly avoided falling off his chair.

“Were you… limping?” Logan asks curiously. He isn’t sure, and perhaps it wasn’t even a limp he spotted—Virgil’s gait just seemed… off.

“‘M tired,” Virgil snaps, much like Dee, and Logan figures he ought to wait a few hours before testing their thin patience any further.

“Logan might’a found your soulmate,” Roman says rather insensitively to Virgil, who looks up with wide eyes. “‘S the Duke.”

Virgil’s eyes narrow dangerously, and Roman has the good sense to scoot his chair slightly closer to Logan’s, and further from Virgil’s.

“I’m not gonna humor that idea any more than I have to, so. Sorry if I don’t care about your reasoning,” Virgil huffs.

“That’s fair, Virgil,” Logan replies. “Please just stay vigilant around areas where the Duke may be present.”

“Always am.”

“I would assume. Now that everyone is here… Virgil, why don’t you grab a plate of breakfast? I have news concerning the Duke.”

Virgil makes a desperate sort of humming noise. Dee ignores him, speaking instead. “Other than your theory? Oh, honey. The hell happened to a full night’s rest?”

“I wake early,” Logan says simply. He notes Patton rising from his chair out of the corner of his eye. Virgil looks relieved, and Patton returns several seconds later with a plate for Virgil. Logan does not comment. “Now. There was another murder early this morning.”

Dee spits out his food. Roman’s eyes go wide. Patton accidentally drops Virgil’s plate the remaining two inches to the table, which thankfully does little more than make an obnoxious noise.

“And you couldn’t have led with that?” Virgil drawls in exhaustion.

“I wanted to ensure you all got some food in you first.”

“‘Course you did.”

%%%

The morning’s murder took place in the bookshop.

The Stanleys are, understandably, less than happy about this, and have decided to shut their bookshop down for a good week or so while everything dies down.

The group almost gets stopped by a line of investigators, but Virgil and Dee start yelling about how their moms are in the back room and they  _have _ to see them, which somehow gets them past the crowd.

“Are the Stanleys actually your parents?” Logan asks. He pauses. “Are you brothers?”

“I mean, they taught me how to read? That feels like a big thing,” Virgil says, “but no, they’re not ‘actually’ my parents.”

“Same,” says Dee, who stops while holding the door open to pull up his sleeve and show Logan his tattoo of an open book. Logan has been mildly irritated his entire life that his soulmate got that tattoo before him. He tries not to be bitter, and smiles professionally at Dee.

“Oh, Virgil,” Mrs. S says when the group enters. “And Dee! It has been  _ such  _ a day, dears.” Her frizzy red hair seems even frizzier than yesterday, as though she has been consistently running her hands through it, and her face is worn.

Mrs. Stanley enters from the main portion of the shop, shutting the door gently behind herself. “Virgil, Dee. Great.” She grabs both their hands and directs them to the couch, where both boys sit down in confusion. “I have committed a crime!” she says proudly, and thankfully quietly.

“Oh,” says Mrs. S faintly. She falls back into the armchair.

“You won’t be able to get photos of this one,” Mrs. Stanley continues, “and I don’t think you’d want to. Anyway, there are police everywhere. But I  _ did  _ snatch something from the crime scene; I doubt they would have found it anyway.”

Dee sits forward impatiently while Virgil fidgets in place. “Well?” Dee asks.

“I think this was meant for you anyhow,” she says, and holds out a green sticky note.

Dee snatches it from her quickly, and she rolls her eyes good-naturedly as she sits on the armrest of her wife’s chair. Logan peers over the boys’ shoulders to read.

_ “Seems I’ve finally got my soulmate’s attention! Come and find me, tats ;)” _

Logan narrows his eyes curiously. Dee and Virgil exchange fairly panicked looks.

“Which one-? Is he talking about me? Or you!?” Virgil asks frantically, yanking up both his sleeves. “Tat check!”

“How will this help!?” Dee asks, but he starts muttering out the names of his tattoos anyway. “Okay, reading!”

“Check!”

“Biking!”

“Check!”

“Hospital overnight!”

“Check!”

“Pill caddy- okay, this isn’t helping!” Dee snaps, and Virgil tugs on his hair, breathing heavily. Silently, Logan notes to himself that neither he, nor Roman, nor Patton ever got their tattoos for reading or biking, and when Roman broke his arm in the fourth grade and had to stay at the hospital overnight, he didn’t receive a tattoo either.

“Mrs. Stanley-” says an unfamiliar voice, and the whole group looks up to find an officer stepping through the employee-only door. “Oh, your family got through. That’s good.” The officer sighs. “I would recommend steering everyone clear of the front room. There’s been another incident across the street, so our team is splitting. We would prefer you keep the shop shut down even after we clean things up here, but that’s ultimately up to you.”

He shuts the door, and after a few seconds of faintly hearing his footsteps walk away, Dee and Virge lose their shit.

“Is he doing this because of us!?” Virgil asks, definitely hyperventilating now.

“I don’t know, I don’t- I mean, absolutely not, right? No, he isn’t. He is  _ not  _ doing this because of us,” Dee insists, staring straight at the wall.

Logan doesn’t know how to handle emotions, but he knows how to handle hyperventilation. He kneels down on the floor in front of Virgil and holds out his hands, palms up.

“Virgil, can I touch you? You’re hyperventilating,” he says softly.

“Yeah, Logan, I  _know,” _ Virgil sharply replies.

“Okay. Can I touch you?”

_ “No!” _

“Okay. Can you try to count your breaths with me?”

Virgil’s breath comes out in a shudder. “I… Fine.”

While Logan steadily counts through his own breaths, allowing Virgil to follow suit, he takes the opportunity to listen absentmindedly to Roman attempting to comfort Dee, and Patton somehow squeezing himself between the two boys on the couch without violating either of their boundaries. Patton begins rubbing circles into each of their shoulders, and neither boy seems to mind, which Logan takes to mean that either his breathing exercises are working, or Virgil would simply rather be touched by Patton than Logan.

Jumping to conclusions.

Logan finishes the breathing exercise with Virgil, and when he looks up again, Patton is smiling down at him with this softness that he knows is typically reserved only for him and for Roman, and, recently, even for Virgil. It strikes something within Logan that he would rather remain unstruck.

“Lo?” Roman asks gently, a hand on his shoulder, and Logan swallows hard, breaking out of his reverie. Virgil and even Dee, both now snapped out of their panic, look concerned.

“My apologies,” Logan says. “I got… caught up.”

“In what?” Patton asks, his smile sad.

“Everything.” Logan coughs and shakes his head. “Regardless. I gather you two would like to get closer to the newest incident?”

Virgil nods, his expression set in determination, and Dee stands up, pushing Patton away.

“Abso- _ fuckin’ - _ lutely,” Virgil says, which Logan assumes is a ‘yes.’

%%%

Police are  _swarming _ the tiny popcorn shop across the street, and Logan finds himself uncharacteristically afraid of how close he and his friends were to the Duke. It is easy, for Logan, to distance himself from the Duke’s crimes, because Logan recognizes that the world he lives in is, as Virgil might say… fucked up.

Logan knows how to acknowledge the distance between himself and the things that could potentially scare him, and he knows how to use that acknowledgment to quell his fear. But this, right now… This is altogether different from hearing about the Duke on the news, or even studying his crimes on a stranger’s dining room table. This is here, and now, and real, and in close proximity to Logan and the people he considers his family.

This is  _ threatening. _

Virgil and Dee, meanwhile, apparently see no such threat now that their initial panic has been dispelled. Virgil seems to have recovered from his morning shakiness, and his gait is back to something resembling normalcy, though Logan would really like to look into why Virgil and Dee both got the ‘overnight in a hospital’ tattoo so early on in their lives, and also why Virgil’s limbs shake when he stands for too long and why Dee’s face sports a butterfly rash that is suspiciously reminiscent of lupus.

Logan recognizes, however, that this is none of his business.

He follows Virgil and Dee around the back of the shop, with Roman and Patton trailing closely behind him. “Uh, Virgil?” Roman whisper-shouts. “There are a  _ lot  _ of police here. I don’t suppose this place is owned by your two sort-of-dads who taught you how to ride a bike?”

Virgil huffs. “God, I wish. No. We’re going to have to examine a  _ different  _ part of the crime scene this time.”

“Namely,” Dee says proudly, “the escape.”

“Oh, dear,” says Patton. Logan agrees.

Virgil is surprisingly adept at finding hidden clues; specifically, such hidden clues as the squashed plants that were previously trying to grow between cracks in the pavement. Logan can pinpoint the exact moment that Virgil’s eyes go from following the trail of still-squished pavement flowers to narrowing in thought.

And then Virgil takes off running down what Logan suspects to be a very hot trail.

And Patton follows him, before even Dee has a chance. “Patton!” Logan yells, and then he’s running, too, and of course Roman isn’t far behind.

Virgil is faster than Logan expected, though he suspects it is mainly because of Virgil’s seemingly constant state of adrenaline rush. Still, Virgil stumbles precariously every so often as he runs, which only heightens Logan’s own anxiety and adrenaline. Patton follows Virgil step for step, sticking only a few feet behind as he dashes down the dark alleys between buildings, stopping, panting, under a fire escape.

Logan hears boots on the metal flooring above them. He assumes Virgil does, too.

Virgil takes the stairs two at a time, sprinting the short flat distances and dangerously hopping the railing around corners. Patton skids around every corner, at least refusing to jump the railing, and Logan thanks the universe for this small mercy. His gratefulness begins to wane when he feels a couple sprinkles of rain on his head.

Well, shit.

“Fuckin’, slow down!” Virgil shouts breathlessly after their prey, and Logan’s heart stops when Virgil nearly loses his grip while trying to jump up from the fire escape onto the roof. Virgil manages it, somehow, hoisting himself up over the lip of the roof and scrambling back to his feet. Patton whirls around, facing Logan with a frantic, helpless expression, and Logan curses and kneels to help Patton up.

Dee goes next, though it takes Roman’s help to get him up due to how short he is. Then Roman, and then, since Logan is just as tall and at least a little stronger than Virgil, Logan pulls himself up alone.

By the time they’re all on the roof, Virgil is taking a few steps  _ away  _ from the other side of the luckily flat platform. Logan is  _ almost  _ thankful, but then Virgil sprints forward and  _ jumps across the gap  _ to the next building’s roof, rolling and then jumping back to his feet. Logan feels his heart skip a beat, and he is somehow even  _more _ scared when he catches a glimpse of a silhouette only a few yards ahead of Virgil in the quickly gathering mist.

“Fuck,” Patton says loudly. “Fuck!”

“Yeah!” Logan agrees, and peers cautiously over the edge. It’s not actually that far of a jump. His main concern is the act of running and jumping in the rain, when the roof is already slick with water.

“Tell my story!” Roman shouts dramatically, and then leaps across the gap.

Patton screeches, and Dee makes a very angry, determined noise and then follows in Roman’s footsteps. Patton glances frantically between Logan and the others and, before he can make a very bad decision, Logan grabs his arm and tugs him back toward the fire escape.

Luckily, Roman is loud as hell, so once Logan helps Patton onto the fire escape and eventually onto the ground, it’s actually not too difficult to locate which building Roman and the others are on. Logan grabs Patton’s hand and breaks into a sprint, weaving between buildings to attempt to catch up with the chase going on above them.

Logan knows this city. They’re almost to the end of the downtown area. They’re going to run out of buildings to jump to.

Patton yells, “There!” and Logan abruptly switches direction, steering himself and his friend toward the fire escape on the building at the edge of the district, the one he knows his other friends are on.

There’s a clattering of boots on metal followed by sneakers on metal followed by boots and more sneakers, and Logan and Patton round the edge of the fire escape just in time to see a blurry green and black figure darting out onto the ground.

Logan lets go of Patton’s hand and instinctively dives for the figure, and he curses when he sees Virgil doing the same out of the corner of his eye.

They end up in a very painful pile on the ground, with no killer silhouette in sight.

“That was stupid,” Logan says through heavy breaths.

“Yeah, well,” Virgil pants much heavily, slowly untangling himself from Logan, “fuck me, I guess.”

Both Logan and Virgil collapse backward, lying face-up on the wet ground and staring up at the stormy grey clouds above them. Roman falls to the ground beside Virgil, and Patton and Dee beside Logan.

“That could have gone better,” Dee says after a solid three minutes of them all trying very hard to catch their breath.

Patton giggles, and then Virgil bursts into a fount of almost hysterical laughter, curling in on himself and then stopping abruptly to groan in pain. Logan sits up immediately.

“Are you injured? Where does it hurt?” Logan asks, crawling closer to Virgil on his knees.

Virgil waves him off, but then winces at the motion. “It’s just. You know, just. Hurts. All over.”

“Serves you right, moron!” Dee exclaims, falling back again, unconcerned.

“Aw, damn. I did actually get visibly hurt though,” Virgil says cryptically. Logan does not try to decipher that sentence, instead just glancing over Virgil’s arm until he sees the nasty scrape on his elbow and forearm, presumably from rolling onto a roof.

Logan sighs. “Let me see, then.”

It’s not so bad for everything Virgil just did. He’ll be fine, but Logan would prefer to get some antibacterial cream and a bandage on it. He says as much, and asks Virgil to follow him back to the car, where his bag is.

Virgil hesitates.

“Can you walk?” Dee asks, finally acting concerned.

“Now that the adrenaline’s gone… possibly no?”

Roman frowns. “What? Why can’t you walk?”

“It’s… a long story. Kind of.”

Roman knows better than to say anything, and is kind enough to shut his mouth and simply help Virgil to his feet. Roman is also  _ strong  _ enough to then scoop Virgil up and start carrying him bridal-style towards the car.

“Damn,” Virgil squeaks, barely audible.

“Need me a freak like that,” Dee mutters, which Logan elects to ignore.

%%%

Roman takes over driving as soon as they get to the car so Logan can get started patching up Virgil.

They’re about halfway to Dee’s house when Logan finishes, and then he feels an odd, unfamiliar euphoric feeling and a bit of an itch on the inside of his elbow.

“What…?” He pulls up his sleeve.

There’s a tattoo there. A tiny image of a gauze roll and a band-aid.

“Oh,” says Logan.

“The hell? I didn’t know there was a tattoo for patching someone up!” Virgil says excitedly. “I would’ve started doing my own patch-ups years ago if I’d known.”

“Yeah, damn,” says Dee. “I had no clue.” He turns to Virgil. “I guess we’ve always had someone to do this for us, huh, V?”

Logan files this information away for later.

(But he doesn’t jump to a conclusion.)


	8. State of Realization (Roman)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman understands some things.

They spend the night at Dee’s again.

Roman is hella unprepared for another night of sleeping curled up to a man who he’s secretly in love with but unsecretly unable to tell while aforementioned man completely ignores Roman’s apologies and pretends not to hear Roman’s increasingly offensive explanations.

It is for this reason that Roman spends the entire rest of the day clinging to Logan and Virgil or otherwise whoever is furthest from Patton. Hell, Roman is gay for Logan, too, but at least Logan’s too emotionally stunted to have literally any idea.

(Honestly, ever since having his polyamory epiphany with Logan on the first day of this adventure, Roman’s been hoping that maybe Logan and Patton are both his soulmates, by some crazy twist of fate. Roman’s been hoping that maybe somehow 1+3+0 can add up to the average of forty tattoos that most couples have collectively, but he knows that math doesn’t track. He just… wishes he didn’t.)

(Double honestly, Roman thinks Virgil might be a godsend. Or, like, a fatesend, or something. He thinks this because Virgil would explain  _ everything,  _ would make everything make sense, and then it wouldn’t be weird that Roman is crushing on a stranger with fifty-thousand tattoos while simultaneously handling long-term crushes on his two best friends when he already has a soulmate out there somewhere.)

(But then Dee showed up, and now Roman is confused. Not confused as in he’s suddenly in love with Dee as well, but confused as in it makes Virgil less… special? That’s not the right word, Roman knows. Virgil is all  _ kinds  _ of special, for reasons Roman can only parse when he’s between worlds, or rubbing the sleep out of his eyes so that his first clear sight of the day is Virgil’s sarcastic smile.)

(Roman’s gotten lost again. It’s okay. This happens a lot.)

(He doesn’t know how he would’ve gotten this far without Patton and Logan to find him.)

“So, Virge,” Roman says awkwardly to stop Virgil from trying to follow Patton into the kitchen while Patton cooks lunch. Virgil sighs and leans back into Dee’s living room sofa. “Did you want to explain the whole ‘can’t walk’ thing, or…?”

Virgil tenses, and Roman’s emotions war between feeling guilty for pressing Virgil and feeling relieved that Dee isn’t here to see it. Roman doesn’t know what the hell kind of relationship those two have, but he thinks that Dee is maybe more protective of Virgil than he’d like to admit. It’s probably better that Dee left to pick up something of Virgil’s from his house.

“What do you mean?” Virgil asks guardedly.

“Well, okay, come on,” Roman huffs, plopping down on the sofa beside Virgil. He winces guiltily when Virgil is jostled and looks to be in pain because of it. “I mean… You couldn’t walk, man. And that’s just… normal for you, I guess?”

Virgil is quiet for about a minute, at which point Roman is starting to feel intimidated enough to change the topic, when Virgil finally speaks up. Really, really bluntly.

“I have Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy.”

“Oh,” says Roman. He really hopes he hasn’t fucked this up like he fucked things up with Patton. “Uh. That’s- What’s that?”

Virgil sighs, and Roman gets the sense he has to explain this a lot. That must suck. “Means my muscles are bad.”

Roman waits patiently.

And, eventually, Virgil sighs again. “Alright, fine. Storytime. DMD is shitty and makes my muscles deteriorate. I’m really,  _ really  _ lucky to be able to walk and run around as much as I do at this age without a wheelchair, but it usually leaves me feeling exhausted or in pain and that sucks. I go to physical therapy a bunch for range-of-motion and to help me walk ‘normally’ because I don’t like to spill my life story to nosy assholes and I have a wheelchair I’m supposed to squeeze into my car, but that never happens and I don’t like the hook. Sometimes I wear braces on my legs or back to help me get around better without like, advancing contractures and shit. Bottom line: muscles bad, fuck me I guess, but at least science made my life expectancy longer.”

Roman has a very hard time finding something to say after that.

Virgil nods. “So there’s that over with! Don’t be a dick about it.”

“Of course not!” Roman splutters. “I would never!”

“Right. So, can you help me into the kitchen to sit with Patton?”

“O-Oh, yeah!” Roman says, jumping to his feet and then carefully helping Virgil to do the same. “Wait, does- Does Patton know? Does Logan know?”

“I figure Patton has at least an idea, and Logan’s smart, so maybe. Just not the details.”

Roman nods, trying to keep track of anything. “Right, right, okay. Wait- Wait! How the hell were you parkouring across buildings and shit!?”

“Rest assured, I’m regretting it.”

Roman nods again, on account of him not know what else to do. He very much feels like he’s lacking info on how to react in this situation. Obviously he doesn’t think any less of Virgil or any bullshit like that, but- Is he supposed to worry more? Is that offensive? Does Virgil asking him for help now mean that Roman should always automatically help from now on, or should he wait for individual permission each time? Like, probably the latter, right? But then what if Virgil expects the former and then gets offended that Roman doesn’t and-

Virgil breaks away from Roman to fall onto a stool at the island in the kitchen, and Patton beams at Virgil in a way that makes Roman unnecessarily jealous.

“Good talk!” Roman says before he can do something stupid, and then he leaves to google disability manners.

%%%

It’s a surprisingly relaxed day after that. Roman gets very mixed messages from the internet but comes away with the decision not to bother Virgil unless he specifically asks, and to otherwise… ignore it? No, okay, not that, but. Well, the internet wasn’t as helpful with that part.

Regardless. They end up having a movie night—well, a movie lunch, really—and Roman gets to show off all his Disney knowledge. He learns that Virgil’s favorite Disney movie is Black Cauldron, and that Logan’s has changed to Big Hero 6.

(He also learns that Patton’s famous popcorn doesn’t taste as good when every bite makes Roman want to apologize. But he ignores that.)

It’s a good, fun day, and Roman appreciates the opportunity to spend quality time with the people he loves so dearly and the person he’s crushing on so dearly. He misses days like these, where Logan and Patton would come over to his place and they’d all binge movies for hours upon hours, Pat and Lo talking over Roman’s favorite parts just so he would screech and rewind to the beginning, prolonging their time.

Roman loves these people with all of his heart.

(And how can that be? How can two best friends and a near stranger take up so much space in his heart when he’s supposedly meant to be saving space for his soulmate, whoever they may be? How can fate possibly find anyone in this world who matches him better than his best friends do? Even if Virgil is his soulmate, which Roman has been lowkey hoping for just a little bit every once in a while, does that mean Roman is expected to… to  _ let go  _ of Logan and Patton? They’re his best friends, and Roman knows Virgil isn’t the asshole-type to insist he be the biggest part of Roman’s life, but he also knows that one’s soulmate is supposed to be the  _ pinnacle  _ of one’s capacity to love. And Roman can’t imagine ever loving Logan and Patton any less than Virgil, even if he could very well imagine loving them all the same amount, in different ways.)

(He’s lost again. Goddammit. He missed his favorite part of the movie.)

Roman is lost enough that he feels it will take him a while to get unlost, so when the movie finishes, Roman stops Logan from putting in another.

“Feel free to continue, but I think I’m gonna walk to my apartment and at least grab some clothes. I may be a fashion disaster, but at least I know what I like.”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. Logan narrows his eyes. Patton is doing everything he can not to look at him as he says, “Okay, be careful!”

Roman leaves.

%%%

It is raining.

Roman loves the rain, but only when he’s inside, or when it’s only sprinkling and he gets to dance through it. Now, he’s just trying to get back from his damn apartment, but the storm clouds from earlier today have made a stubborn return.

Unfortunately, it seems his walk is about to take a little longer than usual, because there’s a line of police tape blocking off an entire strip of road on the route back to Dee’s place.

There are police cars everywhere, and an ambulance parked with its back doors open on the opposite side of the blockage from Roman. There are news reporters swarming around the tape, and the officers are barely keeping them away.

Roman is just starting to resort to a detour when his eyes catch on a person desperately waving their arms in the direction of the ambulance.

“Uh… Hey!” Roman says when he reaches the person, and they spin around in surprise. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,  _I’m _ fine, but- that’s my partner! In the back of the ambulance!” the person says hysterically.

Roman squints through the mist and the crowds. There’s a woman sitting on the floor of the ambulance, hanging her legs out over the side and wearing a shock blanket around her shoulders.

“What happened?” Roman asks.

“The Duke almost got her,” the person wails, their voice catching, and Roman’s eyes widen. God _ damn.  _ “Please, I have to see her, I have to-”

Roman tilts his head. “They won’t let you through?”

“No, I’ve tried everything but-”

“Okay, grab my hand.”

The person must be desperate, because they immediately latch onto Roman’s hand. Roman takes a moment to appreciate that the person has a first kiss tattoo on the back of their hand, and then he takes off elbowing his way through the crowd of reporters.

There’s a bubble of sound around him where everything is too loud, too piercing, but it all fades enough for Roman to center himself in his thoughts, and then he’s ducking under the tape. “Soulmate, coming through!” Roman shouts, and the officer approaching him hesitates long enough for Roman and his new friend to dart past.

By the time they reach the ambulance, they’ve got a line of people behind them trying to make them stop, but Roman is determined. “Hey, lady!” he yells over the shouting of the reporters. “Look!”

The lady with the shock blanket glances up, and her eyes fill with light the moment they lock onto her partner.

“Jay!” she yells, jumping up out of the ambulance. She runs forward and nearly knocks Roman over with the force she uses to ram into and subsequently hug her partner, and Roman feels a small smile begin to form on his face.

And then he sees the first kiss tattoo on the back of her neck.

“Wait,” he says, and then regrets it, but it’s too late to stop now- “You’re not soulmates?”

Both partners flush. “I… I like to think we are,” the lady says.

Her partner shrugs. “We love each other. And, if symbolism is what you need, then- well, we got these tattoos with each other.” They hold up their hand and point to her neck, and Roman feels like he’s had some sort of realization that he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Oh, yeah. Cool!” he says, and while the two of them are comforting each other, he takes a deep breath and runs away, toward Dee’s place.

Roman doesn’t even know what he’s discovered, but he knows it means something to him.


	9. State of Forgiveness (Patton)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton forgives something that he now thinks maybe shouldn't need to be forgiven. Also, something scary happens.

“You don’t think it was him, right?” Patton asks desperately as Logan attempts once more to zoom in on the grainy image.

“I don’t know,” Logan says. “We know it was on his route, but it’s impossible to decipher anything in this low-quality report, and they aren’t letting out any information yet-”

There’s a knock on the door, and Virgil stumbles twice in his attempt to get there first. “Roman!?” he calls, hastily unlocking the door, and Patton can see his expression drop as Dee appears in the doorframe.

“Guess who I found, soaking wet in the rain,” Dee says, unamused, and Virgil lurches past him to throw his arms around Roman.

“Ro!” Patton yells happily, running to join the rainy hug, and Logan follows behind him and then tugs the whole huggy mess of a group inside before joining in. “We were so worried!”

“What? Why?” Roman asks, burrowing out from Virgil’s very tight hold.

“Because you went on a fun walk right by an almost-murder and then took ten years getting back, asshole!” Virgil hisses. “Gave me a goddamn heart attack, and Logan was reduced to reciting Pi to try and calm down!”

“We were  _ really  _ worried,” Patton says genuinely.

“Oh,” Roman says, quieter now. “I’m… really sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to be gone so long.”

“He would’ve been gone longer if I hadn’t driven by his sorry figure in the rain,” Dee sniffs, and Virgil rolls his eyes, detaching from the hug.

“Come on, Ro, you’re soaking,” Patton sighs, dragging him over to the couch. He’s sure Dee won’t mind. “I can’t imagine the clothes you picked up are even dry anymore.”

Roman smiles sheepishly.

Logan sighs. “I’ll go look for something his size in the closet.”

“If it’s green, I won’t wear it!” Roman calls after him.

“I know!”

Patton uses the spare time to fret uselessly over Roman, checking him for injuries that he promises he doesn’t have and then ordering Dee to make him a hot chocolate or something. Dee isn’t thrilled about being ordered around, but he does it anyway.

Only once Roman is in dry clothes and covered in fifteen blankets does Patton allow himself to think about what happened. Not that anything really, truly,  _ actually  _ happened—but it almost did. And that is so,  _ so  _ scary.

Patton is horrified by the idea that Roman could have died thinking Patton was still mad at him.

And he’s not! Well, he’s not  _ mad,  _ at least. He may be something else about it, but heck if Patton knows what that something else is.

And really, when Patton thinks about it… He  _ gets  _ it. Roman has a soulmate! That’s all Patton has ever wanted! He can’t fault his friend for being happy about that. Roman didn’t mean anything by it, and it’s understandable that he wouldn’t want to be with Patton after realizing he actually has a soulmate. Even if it still feels like there’s something  _ there. _

Even if Patton still feels like-

There’s a loud ringing sound, and Dee sighs and stands up, heading out of the room as he answers his phone. A respectful hush falls over the room. “Hello?”

He stops in the doorframe and slowly turns around, holding his phone out and pressing the speaker button.

_“Are you still there?” _ asks a nasally voice.

“Yeah, who are you?” Dee asks, and it seems like every single member of the group is holding their breaths.

The person over the phone is silent for a moment.

_ “ ...Am I on speakerphone, Declan?” _

The voice is almost laughing, like it finds the situation humorous. Patton feels sick with the implications.

“Yeah, I’m busy, asshole, I don’t pause my life just to answer a phone call,” Dee lies, walking closer to the group.

_ “Of course, how silly of me!” _

“Who  _ are  _ you?” Dee asks again, more impatiently now.

_ “I believe you know me as the Duke, soulmate.” _

Dee’s face pales considerably. Patton silently rises from the couch, just in case he, like, faints or something. “Okay,” Dee carries on, swallowing hard. “Fine. What do you want with me?”

_ “ Honestly, I thought the nickname would’ve given it away! The nickname being ‘soulmate,’ I mean.” _

“Okay, yeah, Jesus, I get it!” Dee snaps. “What do you  _ want,  _ though?”

_ “Put simply, I want this: to speak with you.” _

“Done and done, bitch.”

_ “In person.” _

Dee looks around at the group, making increasingly confused, scared, and frustrated facial expressions. “Okay… Let’s say I agreed. Where would we meet? Would I be safe?”

_ “Of course you would! I didn’t expect to find my soulmate like  **this, ** but it’s certainly better than what I was planning!” _

Virgil is mouthing the word ‘no’ over and over. Roman is waving his arms around in disbelief. Logan is writing down the conversation as quietly as he can.

“Where?” Dee asks, and Virgil throws his arms up in exasperation.

_ “How about the bookshop? It’s the first time you got a good look at my art, after all.” _

Roman starts to say something, and Virgil holds a hand over his mouth.

“When?”

_ “When can you be there? I know you have a key.” _

Dee looks around the group, eventually locking eyes with Virgil. “...Three hours.”

Virgil has to leave the room.

_ “Works for me! Meet you at the bookshop at five twenty-seven on the dot!” _

The Duke hangs up.


	10. State of Panic (Virgil)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil handles his panic surprisingly well.

Virgil spends his life in five states of being: pain, adrenaline (and  _ lots  _ of it), relief, regret, and exasperation.

He is sick and tired of everyone around him making dumbass decisions instead of thinking things through like a sane person.

Was it dumb of him to try to parkour his way after a serial killer? Fine, yes. But was it dumb of Dee to try and arrange a formal  _ meeting  _ with the guy? Uh,  _ absolutely. _

So Virgil has a plan.

Granted, it is not a great plan. But Virgil figures this Duke guy can only know so much about their lives; after all, he’s only had a day or two to gather information. And Virgil has  _ exactly  _ the same amount of tattoos as Dee does, and has been ‘living’ at Dee’s house for as long as the Duke seems to have known about Dee, and can hide the purple-dyed tips of his hair under one of Dee’s classic black beanies.

The only real problem is his height and his skin color, but honestly? Let the Duke think he mixed up his prey. For real, how can the Duke know which one of them is his ‘soulmate?’ Virgil’s still not in the clear on that one, and he’s willing to take advantage of that.

So, when Virgil re-enters the living room, he has washed the eyeshadow out from under his eyes. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, granted, but he figures he can trade out Dee’s butterfly rash for eye bags. He’s wearing one of Dee’s many beanies and has even stolen some of his weird yellow gloves, and he’s switched out his patchwork hoodie for one of Dee’s black jackets.

“How do I look?” Virgil asks.

“Like… Dee,” Patton says slowly. “Wait, Virgil-”

Before Patton can guilt-trip him into  _ not  _ risking his life, Virgil turns to Logan. “Nerd. You think this will work?”

Logan glances up from his notes for only a few moments to look over Virgil’s new appearance, and then looks back down at his notes again, revisiting the conversation. “...I don’t know. I’d say there’s only a fifty percent chance that the Duke is even confident in picking Dee over you. I’d say there’s even less of a chance that he’d know well enough to dispute if you showed up in Dee’s place.”

“Logan!” Patton says in a scolding voice, sounding betrayed. There’s worry coursing beneath that tone, and Virgil flinches. He hates to worry him. He really does.

“Virgil…” Dee takes a slow breath, and Virgil turns to face him. “You can’t do this. You know that.”

“Can and will, bitch.”

“What about your brother?”

“What about your parents?”

Dee gives him an unimpressed look. Virgil huffs.

“I’m going, Dee. Call Remy if you want, but he’s not gonna do shit to stop me. I’ve been pulling this kinda bull for  _ years  _ now.”

“Okay, can we just-” Roman jumps to his feet to butt into the conversation. “Can we just stop and think about this!? How about, and get this- How about  _ no one  _ goes to meet the serial killer!?”

“I’m weirdly invested in this, okay?” Virgil says, perhaps a little too angrily. “And also, I’m getting Patton that tattoo if it  _ kills  _ me.”

_ “Please  _ don’t,” Patton squeaks.

“May I propose a compromise?” Logan asks, slowly standing up. The group is quiet. Logan forges on. “We  _all _ go. Virgil pretends to be Dee while the rest of us watch from as safe a distance as possible. Virgil keeps a set of handcuffs on his person, and I call the police as  _ soon  _ as things start to go downhill. With so many murders in so little time, it’s likely that the police will have the entire downtown area blocked off. That means that it will take them a minimal amount of time to get from where they are stationed to the bookshop if and when something goes wrong.”

Virgil lets himself stay quiet for a moment while he thinks. On one hand, this puts his friends in danger.

On the other hand, he only has seventy-three tattoos, and  _ maybe, somewhere, deep down… _

Virgil still doesn’t want to die.

He’s made it this far, goddammit, and DMD can kiss his ass but he has to be  _ alive _ to gloat.

“Deal,” Virgil blurts.

%%%

They end up just outside the downtown district, using a pair of binoculars to peer into the bookshop.

Logan spots a figure moving around at five twenty-two.

“Alright,” Logan says. “Dee, you stay here and keep an eye on the shop. If you see the Duke moving or leaving the shop while we’re on our way over, text us. Everyone, keep your phones on silent with vibrate off. Patton will be keeping an eye on his phone the whole time. Virgil…” He takes a deep breath and gives Virgil a smile that makes it worth it. “Lead the way.”

Virgil has in his pocket three separate things.

_ One, _ he thinks, just to take inventory as he sneaks across the street and down the alley toward the back of the bookshop; he has Dee’s phone. It’s the only phone not on silent, just in case the Duke calls him and wants ‘proof’ that it’s him. It’s also set to record all audio and stream it to Logan’s laptop at the house, which should be subsequently recording it.

_ Two _ _,_ he thinks, silently unlocking the back door and forcing his legs not to shake as he peeks into the employee-only room; a pair of handcuffs they got at wal-mart. They’re not super strong, but they  _ did  _ waste twenty minutes of the group’s prep time because Patton got stuck in them and couldn’t get out until Logan learned how to use the really weird plastic key set.

_ Three,  _ he thinks, swallowing hard as he opens the employee-only door into the main room and makes sure to leave it open enough for someone to slip through it without moving it.

A can of mace. Just in case.

Virgil peeks out around the first bookcase that hides the employee-only door from the rest of the bookshop, and, sure enough, a man who Virgil assumes to be the Duke is there in between aisles, casually browsing the art section. Virgil waves his hand behind his back, signaling for the others to creep through the door and hide out of view behind the first bookcase.

Virgil clears his throat.

The Duke is shorter than Virgil is, which is comforting for some weird reason. He’s also of a thicker build, though, with muscles that look like they maybe  _ aren’t  _ slowly deteriorating. He wears what could honestly be described as a comic book villain’s costume, with green and black lace and frills decorating his showy outfit, excusing only his brown boots from the horror.

The Duke has a mustache, and a strip of silver in his hair. Virgil can’t fathom how he’s managed to avoid getting caught for this long.

“Declan!” says the Duke, which is good, because it means that either their plan is working or their plan is  _ not  _ working but the Duke thinks he might as well humor them. Fuck. Okay, that wouldn’t be good. It’s fine, it’s fine, move on.

“...Duke,” Virgil says awkwardly, shuffling forward, trying to will his body to stop tensing up. Every inch of his being is on high alert, and he can’t decide if that’s for the best or not.

“It’s so nice to finally get to talk to you in person!” the Duke says with the kind of excitement that is usually reserved for a small child (or Patton). It sounds tainted coming from his mouth. “I’m really sorry about my last piece.”

“Your last piece?” Virgil chokes out.

“Yes, it was meant to be a woman, but the coppers were too close and I had to bail. Oh, it was horrible!” he says dramatically. Virgil  _hates _ him.

“...Right. It’s, um… It’s okay. What- What did you want to talk about?”

“Oh, no need to be nervous!” the Duke says, striding closer to Virgil, and Virgil almost pulls out the mace on instinct. But, god, now he’s  _ curious.  _ “We’re soulmates!  _ That’s  _ why I wanted to talk to you. You know, so we can move in together, get married, do whatever the whole romance thing is, get onto more  _ serious  _ business,” he says, checking off points on his fingers and then wiggling his eyebrows. Fuck,  _ fuck,  _ Virgil  _ really  _ hates this guy. The Duke steps closer, putting his arms around Virgil’s waist, and Virgil has to think  _ really  _ hard about Logan’s breathing exercises to keep himself from hyperventilating. “So, when do you wanna get started, sweetheart? Ooh, you know what? We could start with  _one _ of those things right here!” He winks, and then turns contemplative as he looks around Virgil to study the room. “You know, I displayed an art piece here once…” His head pops back up excitedly, and he shrugs. “Can’t say it was well-received, though!”

“I don’t even know your name,” Virgil says, because he can’t say anything else.

The Duke splutters. “Well, obviously! I’m so silly! My name is Remus. I think that’s enough for now!”

“W-Wait!” Virgil says, pushing his hands up against the other man’s chest when he tries to come closer. “Uh- Um… You never- You never told me… how you were picking your… your art pieces.”

The Duke (Virgil  _ refuses  _ to humanize him) lights up. “Ooh! A man after my own heart! Devil’s in the details, you know.” He moves his hands so that one arm is across Virgil’s shoulder, and then he pulls him in close to his side. Virgil’s trying not to cry, because that would  _ not  _ help the plan. “At first, it was because I just wanted to find my soulmate so badly! You know how you get a tattoo when your soulmate dies, right? Well, I waited so long to find my soulmate, I just wanted to speed things up-” He trails off very suddenly, his eyes slowly falling down to meet Virgil’s.

“Do you know how long I waited?” the Duke whispers, and Virgil shudders.

“No?”

“Decades,” the Duke breathes. Virgil can feel the heat on his face. It’s hard not to turn away. “For years, I didn’t even know I  _ had  _ a soulmate, because my  _soulmate,” _ he spits, trailing a finger across the skydiving tattoo on Virgil’s neck, “was  _hogging _ them all, like a selfish little  _ bitch!” _

He perks up again, smiling wide. “So you can imagine how that sucked for me!”

Virgil nods mutely.

“Oh, right!  _ Anyway!  _ I just wanted to  _ know.  _ But then you came along, ‘investigating’ my art with all your friends, and I  _ knew  _ it had to be you! Well, one of you. But I think it’s you! And now that I know, I don’t even have to kill you, I can just _ have  _ you!”

“So, just to confirm,” the Duke says, drawing out his first word and also drawing out a knife from his waistband, “I was thinking, maybe, like, a blood pact? That’s one of the  _ fun  _ tattoos, and I’ve spent all this time not getting one just so I could use it to make sure it was you, if I ever met you and you were still alive!”

Virgil lives his life in what is coming up on six states of being: pain, adrenaline (it’s possible this counts as two or three all on its own), relief, regret, exasperation, and  _ panic.  _ Honestly, it’s a miracle this one didn’t get added sooner.

But it’s being added now, because Virgil hears the sound of something dropping near the back of the bookshop, by the employee-only door. And, by the looks of things, the Duke hears it, too.

“Oh! Do we have an audience?” the Duke asks, wielding his knife and stalking toward the back bookcase.

“Nope, just you and me!” Virgil shouts, tackling the Duke.

It’s not what the Duke expected Virgil to do, and it’s also not what  _ Virgil _ expected Virgil to do, but here they are.

“Excited, are we?” the Duke asks, and Virgil thinks he’s (relatively) in the clear, but then the Duke tries to swipe forward with his knife, and Virgil just  _ barely  _ dodges backward.

“Fuck off,” Virgil snarls, because he figures the jig is up anyways.

The Duke squeals happily when Virgil brings out the mace. “What’s our safe word?” he asks, and Virgil is trying very hard not to become a killer himself.

The handcuffs excite the Duke even further. Virgil finds this pretty upsetting, but tosses the handcuffs over the bookcase anyway. The Duke watches them go in confusion, and then looks back curiously at Virgil. “Not your kink, then?” he asks.

“Pat!” Virgil yells. “Now’s your chance, bud!”

Virgil doesn’t know when Dee joined the party, but he and Patton jump out of hiding at the same time. Logan is quick to follow, dashing past the action to begin unlocking the bookshop’s front doors. Roman jumps out, too, barely pulling Virgil out of the way before the Duke’s knife comes down where he used to be. Virgil, from his new position in Roman’s arms, aims his mace at the Duke’s eyes and sprays.

The Duke screams and stumbles back, and Dee holds him down while Patton fumbles with the handcuffs, clicking them victoriously around the Duke’s wrists.

“Sick,” Virgil says, and gives up carrying his own weight.


	11. State of Relief (Logan and Roman)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They lived, which is good enough, I guess.

Logan stands on the sidewalk and helps wave the officers over, informing them as they go that the Duke is cuffed and has been de-armed but may have other weapons on his person. He only makes it about three minutes before another officer takes him aside for questioning, but he’s honestly impressed he made it that far.

Before long, Patton, Dee, Roman, and Virgil join him in the tent the police have set up. They answer what questions they can, and Logan offers to show the police the audio that should now be recorded on his laptop at Dee’s place. They’re all offered shock blankets, but only Dee accepts. Logan worries for Virgil, but elects not to say anything.

Logan believes he may have something to discuss with his friends when they get back.

* * *

Roman keeps carrying Virgil because Virgil never says to put him down. Plus, Virgil doesn’t seem to mind the closeness, and Roman  _ certainly  _ doesn’t mind.

The police let them go because of the unusual circumstances with the Duke’s possible-soulmate-maybe-but-we’re-still-not-sure, with the request that they come to the station tomorrow to help sort things out.

Roman helps Virgil into the backseat of his car, and, surprisingly, Virgil doesn’t let him go. Instead, he keeps clinging to Roman, so Roman decides it can’t hurt if he sits in the middle this time around.

Dee plops down in the driver’s seat with a very shaky breath, and Patton gently nudges him over into the passenger seat. “I’ll drive, if that’s okay,” Pat says softly, and Dee just mutely nods.

Logan clambers into the back to sit beside Roman, and Roman notices that he sits abnormally close. Not that he minds.

(Roman is beginning to reach a conclusion about the whole soulmate thing.)

“Thanks, guys,” Virgil says when they’re about halfway to Dee’s, and it’s so quiet that Roman almost doesn’t hear it. “I don’t think I would’ve wanted to go alone.” He reaches across Roman’s lap to grab Logan’s hand, and Patton smiles at them through the rearview mirror.

“I still don’t think we should’ve gone  _ at all,”  _ Roman pipes up, shocking a tiny laugh out of Dee, “but whatever. You’re welcome, I guess.”

“You barely even did anything, Drama King.”

“Well, excuse you! I  _ caught  _ you, didn’t I? You would’ve been minced meat!”

“Oh, I could’ve handled one little stab.”

“Wha- One little stab!” Roman splutters.

(Roman has something to say to his friends when they get back.)


	12. State of Togetherness (Patton)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton starts to feel a little less lonely.

They don’t listen to any music on the way to Dee’s, which Patton thinks is just as well. They’re all still processing, after all.

He feels like he’s known Virgil—and, hell, even Dee—for a lifetime. It’s odd to think it’s only been a few days.

Patton parks the car and lets everyone else get out first, only exiting after he sees them all get out safely. He locks the car, closes the garage door, and joins them in the dining room, where nobody has bothered to sit down except for Virgil.

“So,” says Dee. “I… Have another tattoo now. It’s on my hand. And I think it’s for arresting my soulmate, so.” He swallows. “I’m gonna go to bed and… think about that.” He waves halfheartedly to the group as he walks upstairs to his bedroom, and the group exchanges concerned looks.

“I think we have a fair bit of talking to do, as well,” Logan says quietly, and Roman nods enthusiastically. Virgil’s agreement is slower, but just as genuine, and Patton is so so  _ so  _ glad they’re all okay. He doesn’t know what he’d do without them.

%%%

They are all sitting on the bed.

Logan hasn’t changed out of his day clothes. Roman switched into the now-dry pajamas he brought from his house, and Patton reclaimed Dee’s cat onesie. Virgil took off the beanie and put eyeshadow under his eyes despite the fact that it’s nearing seven p.m., but otherwise didn’t change at all.

“Are we gonna talk about this or not?” Virgil asks impatiently, but his voice cracks midway through. Patton scoots closer to him, leaning his head on Virgil’s shoulder, and Virgil lets out a shuddery breath.

“I got my first tattoo,” Patton offers.

“Oh, thank god,” Virgil says, and it’s almost a laugh. “Because I got jack-shit.”

Roman collapses, rolling so that he’s face-down on the bed. He says something, but it’s muffled, so he sits up again and says, “And here I thought I would have to break some societal boundary to kiss you guys!”

The three of them turn, almost nervously, to Logan.

Just as nervously—and just as happily—Logan smiles.


	13. State of Love (All)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They think they're gonna be okay.

Virgil lives his life in a standard amount of states of being. But of them all, he feels the following the most: pain; adrenaline; adrenaline again; relief; regret; exasperation; panic…

And contentment.

(They wait until morning to truly ‘talk about it.’ It’s nice to be able to just… cast it all aside, and find comfort in one another for at least the night.)

(Admittedly, waking up is awkward, but then Logan bursts into the room, dropping plates on their legs and citing a healthy lifestyle, and the air feels a little bit less tense.)

“Has anyone seen Dee today?” Patton asks hesitantly when he rises to collect everyone’s dishes.

Logan pauses in his journal-logging for a moment. “Oh, of course. Someone should probably tend to him.”

Virgil sighs as he moves from the dining room chair to—thank fate—his wheelchair, which Dee brought over yesterday. “I’m on it,” he says, because despite his best efforts, he is genuinely worried. He can’t imagine finding out- Well, he can, actually, because he spent, like, three hours worrying about it the other day.

(Virgil is very glad Dee’s house has an elevator. Honestly, though, it’s a miracle the others didn’t find it sooner.)

When he reaches Dee’s door, Virgil stalls by pulling out his phone. He texted Remy last night with a completely uncensored summary of the day’s events which ended with the line, “so we caught a serial killer.”

At three a.m. last night (which is concerning), Remy replied,  _ “ ofc you did.” _

Which is enough for Virgil.

Hesitantly, he knocks on the door, and then thinks better of it and just pushes his way inside. He groans as he stands, but he doesn’t really expect Dee to  _ stop  _ lying face down on his bed, so he does what he has to, sitting on the edge.

“Hey, Dee?”

Dee groans.

“Dee, it’s almost ten. You need to get up.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dee snaps, lifting his head. “You have no fucking clue what I’m going through.”

It’s silent, and Dee lowers his head into the pillow again.

Slowly, Virgil says, “Okay… But have you tried yoga?”

It’s a little not-so-inside joke they have, and it gets a funny little bark of surprised laughter out of Dee, which, again…

It’s enough.

“I’m kind of angry you have more tattoos than me now,” Virgil says jokingly, “but I guess I can forgive you enough to let you watch movies with us downstairs.”

“...It’ll interrupt your lovebird time.”

“The hell it will. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Dee looks up, narrowing his eyes. “You literally don’t.”

Virgil shrugs, and he feels a faint smile on his face. “Guess today is the first time it hasn’t felt like it.”

Dee must see the weight in the statement, because he lifts himself off the bed and groans dramatically. “If we don’t watch Hercules first, your mom’s a hoe.”

“You love my mom!”

“So I do,” Dee sighs, just as dramatically.

When they walk to the elevator, Dee takes control of Virgil’s wheelchair every few feet. Just to piss him off.

%%%

“Quick, while he’s gone,” Roman says conspiratorially. “How much do we like Virgil, scale of one to ten?”

“Ten!” Patton says excitedly, bouncing up and down.

Logan opens his mouth as though to lecture, but then sighs and smiles and says, “ten.”

“Eleven!” Roman says, fist-pumping victoriously. “Aha! I win!”

Logan’s smile dips. “What- You can’t just change the scale like that! If it was one to eleven, then I would have said eleven!”

“I  _ didn’t  _ change the scale, birdbrain. It was still one to ten.”

“Then  _ why  _ did you say eleven!?”

Logan and Roman continue to bicker senselessly, and Patton giggles when Logan tells Roman to shut up while he tugs a “helpful visual” out of his backpack. Both boys pause, then, turning to smile sheepishly at Patton, and Patton wonders how anyone can feel this much in love without their heart beating out of their chest.

So Patton, he supposes, would say he primarily lives his life in  _ two  _ states of being:

Hope, and love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phewie! i hope you enjoyed my disaster fic. like i said, i wrote the last 10k of this in just one day, so please understand that I understand how rushed it feels and just can't manage to fix it. that said, it was a fun experience! i would've spent more time researching how murders work legally, but deja brew from last year was chock-full of lawyer stuff and i didn't want a repeat of the brain-spinning i subjected myself to for that. so here we are!
> 
> see you again next year!


End file.
